


Home

by posingasme



Series: Too Much and Not Enough [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, F/M, M/M, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set twelve years after Inked Touches, Sam and Castiel are foster parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day to Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home is more than a house, and family don't end with blood.

Sam tossed two bottles of juice across the dining room, one after the other, into waiting hands. He grabbed an abandoned cell phone and placed it into a pink backpack. One quick hand grabbed the back of a shirt collar and the other took hold of a hood. Two male voices shouted in protest, but with a few rapid twists of his wrists, he had fixed a blue tie and picked a pocket clean of cigarettes. He popped a piece of toast into his mouth while pushing a travel mug of coffee into inked fingers. Without a word, he sent a message with his eyes that produced a roll of the brown ones across the room. He intercepted a thrown orange intended for a turned head. He stepped over one dog and swiped at the other one stealing bacon from a plate.

Amongst the din of voices, he remained silent, but he heard nearly every word of every interaction. Castiel's deep bass permeated the background. Damon's constant, rhythmic melody was in competition with his sister Jada's chirping chatter. Tom was shoving his hands into his now empty pockets and complaining to Castiel about Sam's terminal inability to understand the needs of teenagers. Evan was muttering at the game he was playing on his phone, and periodically commenting on Tom's terminal inability to shut up and get over himself.

"Sam!" Jada whirled on him. "My essay!"

Sam lifted it over Damon's head to hand to her. "Just a few grammar and word choice suggestions. Good argument, kid."

She beamed at him.

"Why don't you have me read your drafts?" Castiel teased.

Sam kissed the top of his husband's head on his way past him. "Probably because you can't spell multi-syllable words and you don't respect the Oxford comma."

"Whatever, man," Damon called over his shoulder. "Cas don't have to spell to rhyme." He put his fist up for Castiel to pound with his own.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure Jada's teacher is not expecting her essay in freestyle rhyme form."

Damon laughed. "She should! That'd be awesome! I'd do my reading if I could answer questions about it in rhyme!"

A brown eyebrow inched up. "You better do your reading anyway."

"He's got Mrs. Bradley. Not much point in doing any of that reading," Evan muttered. "I didn't do crap in that class and got a C."

"That's because you're a nerd." Tom sneered at him.

"A nerd that's gonna make your ass walk to school if you don't get moving." Evan stood and threw his backpack on his slumped shoulder.

The chaos began anew as the other three leapt out of their seats and scrambled to follow Evan out the door, shoving one another on their way to the car. While Damon and Tom argued, Jada slipped between them and into the passenger seat. Evan did not bother looking to see if everyone was in before pulling out of the driveway.

Sam looked down at the disaster of a dining room table and then up into a pair of blue eyes.

Castiel's eyebrow peaked. "I've got fifteen minutes."

"Make it ten," Sam responded.

"Five would be better," Castiel agreed as he tore off his tie and raced after his husband toward the bedroom, leaving the remains of breakfast at the mercy of the canines.

Sam was biting Castiel’s lower lip and pulling him out of his suit jacket while speaking into his mouth. “Did you give Damon money for that class trip?”

Castiel’s hands flew over Sam’s belt frantically. “Yeah. You gonna get Tom to therapy this afternoon, or do I need to leave work early?”

“I’ll take care of it if you can get dinner started when you get home.”

“Check that Andy’s coming tomorrow. He’s gotta get Miranda to the vet for her shot by two, and don’t forget-Oh god.”

Sam grinned to himself. “You were saying?”

“I have no idea,” Castiel moaned.

Finding intimate time for the two of them was never easy, but they never took for granted the time they did get. Quick morning tussles like today’s got them through till a longer appointment could be scheduled. It had been this way for four years.

It took some effort to switch from capable foster parent to loving husband, but Sam managed it. He had gotten plenty of practice, and he knew every inch of Castiel’s skin anyway. He knew exactly which buttons to push and how to set his husband’s blood rushing at a moment’s notice. It took far less effort on Castiel’s part to get Sam going-none in fact-and neither of them were inclined to waste the few precious moments they had by playing coy.

Sam loved the way Castiel reacted to every sound he made with his own. It had always been that way. Every one of Sam’s moans was met with a gasp, every gasp met with a growl. Even when they were forced into near silence because of others in the house at night, their breaths echoed one another in a beautiful symphony. The tattoo on Castiel’s hip and the sak yant around his right elbow had each been touched up recently, and Sam remembered it was sensitive. He avoided it in his ministrations, but every other part of the man was fair game, and he made good use of it.

It was just like Castiel to try to fall asleep after. Some things would never change. Sam shoved at him with his own renewed energy. “Up, Angel!” he cried happily as he pulled on his own pants again. “Missouri won’t wait for you.”

“Sure as hell better wait for me,” Castiel grumped.

“She won’t. Get up.”

A strange look came over his face then, and he slowly lifted himself to dress. “Sam?”

“Yeah, man,” he responded, throwing on his corduroy jacket. He was teaching today, and would spend the rest of his time going over consulting briefs. Since he would not be meeting any clients face to face, he had opted for jeans and loafers. Sam had never minded suits, but he did not wear them when he could get away without them. He had never moved from the university like he had expected to. Two years ago, he had been offered a position with a firm, for the fourth time in his career, and he finally had to admit he was perfectly happy where he was. Castiel had been supportive, had told him that if he wanted to keep teaching and consult on the side, he should do that. Between the two of them, they made an excellent living. Sam’s consulting, especially, was lucrative, and he could always add to his client base as he liked. When he finally made the decision to settle where he was, an enormous weight flew from his shoulders. He was happier and more relaxed than he had been for his whole career.

“I don’t want you to get weird on me.”

He laughed a bit. “It’s too late for that, isn’t it? I mean, we met how many years ago? Was I not weird the minute you met me?”

Castiel nodded to himself. “That’s an understatement,” he teased. “I mean, you did hire me for cuddles.”

“Yeah, and I’m still paying for it.”

The man snickered quietly. “No, I mean, I don’t want you to get angry.”

“I imagine you don’t. What’d you do that’s going to make me angry?”

He took a breath. “I’m taking Evan to get his first tat on Saturday morning.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. This was new. He was well-aware that this was a subject which would need to be handled carefully. “Because he’s turning eighteen.”

“Right. They can’t tell him he can’t. And we can’t really get in any trouble for letting him.”

“And you can’t tell him he can’t because you’re a walking billboard for the arts.”

Castiel’s blue eyes flicked toward him dangerously, but he chose not to respond.

Sam nodded. He found the discarded blue tie and approached Castiel to button his white shirt and apply the dreaded noose. “Okay. I’d rather he did it with you than went out to do it on his own. He might get the wrong person to do it.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s he want? And where?”

“We’re still working that out.”

“It’s Thursday, Cas.”

His husband shrugged. “You can’t rush art, Sam.”

“Well, you already told him you’d take him. Not much I can do at this point, is there?” He wished he did not feel irritated about this of all things. He knew how important his ink was to Castiel. He knew it symbolized so much more than just the designs that could be seen. But something about taking their foster kid to get inked on the day he aged out of the system bothered him. On the other hand…He took hold of Castiel’s kirituhi fingers and ran his own over them. “Cas, you’re the one who knows what this birthday feels like. I’m not going to pretend I understand that.”

A smile of gratitude slipped onto his face then. Castiel had lines at the corners of his eyes that had appeared whenever he smiled over the past few years, and Sam adored them. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Saturday is going to be a hard day. When I aged out, it was in the summer, and I left town that day. Evan’s still got almost two months left in school, and he’s promised me he’s going to see it through, here with us. So it’s going to be a really rough day. When he told me he wanted this, I just couldn’t say no.”

“Because you understand.”

“Because I remember.”

Sam nodded. “All right. Please encourage him to get it where it easily covers up. And I know you won’t let him get anything stupid. He’s not that type anyway. Tom on the other hand…”

Castiel made a face. “I’m not letting Tom get inked. He’ll want a pot leaf or something. Probably right on his forehead. I’ll use a sharpie for him.”

The laugh eased the minor tension in the room, and Sam swatted at his husband. “Go. Get to work. I have so many accounts I need to audit today that I’m going to have to swim through the paperwork to get out of my office! Go!”

But just as he turned around, he felt strong hands whirl him back into a passionate kiss. He did not bother fighting against that. No matter how late he was, Castiel was always welcome to make him later. When at last they parted, he took a shuddering breath and waited for the words he had lived for, for over a decade. “Sam, I love you. So much. I’ve never forgotten to be grateful for you.”

Sam smiled at him quietly. The blue eyes were looking up at him, and he could tell the man was not finished. So he waited, and basked in the gaze in the meantime.

“All of this…the kids, this home…I would have no family if it weren’t for you. No home. You…you are my home, Sam. I know you know that. You’re smiling at me; I know you’re laughing at me.” Before Sam could protest, he waved his patterned hand carelessly. “It’s fine. Laugh if you want. But sometimes I gotta remind you that I think about it. All the time.”

He took his husband’s hand and kissed the long fingers. “I know.”

“I know you know. It’s just that…Evan is aging out. And he’ll have a home to come back to. I know he’ll never quite understand what that means, not like I do. And I’m glad of that. But I want you to understand somehow. What it means to have a home. What it means to have you, after all this time.”

His lips brushed the backs of the fingers again. “Angel, my situation was very different. Dean always made sure I had someplace to call home, as soon as he turned eighteen. So it isn’t the same. But don’t think I ever took that home for granted. I was grateful for it every day. Dean didn’t have to do that for me.”

“And you didn’t have to do it for me.”

He knew his smile was expressing his love the way his words never could. “Yeah I did. It was the only way I got to keep you. Build you a home and stick you in it, and lock the doors so you can’t get out.”

“That sounds more like a kidnapping when you put it that way.”

He laughed. “Some days it felt like it too! You know how hard it is to trap an angel? Like catching a hurricane in a butterfly net, but harder.” He bent at the neck to kiss his husband’s nose. “Don’t let him get anything stupid,” he said again. “All of your ink means something. Teach him that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

The adoration in the blue eyes had always filled his heart with pride. “I love you.”

“I love you, Angel. Go to work.”

The rest of Sam’s day went by more easily than he had expected. He taught his morning class, came back to his office to conference with a few frightened undergrads, then ate lunch at his desk. He kept a tiny refrigerator in his office, stocked with juice and salads and Greek yogurt. Every time he reached into it, he was reminded of the various motels and truck stops he had grown up in. Castiel may be grateful for their home, but so was Sam. He had sworn to himself that as soon as he got a job and could afford to live like a normal human, he would never eat another hot dog again. Sam could admit to getting nostalgic sometimes, but for the road, not for the road food.

The summer before the first foster kids had arrived, Sam had opted not to teach any summer courses, and had gone on a weeklong road trip with his brother in the Impala with no map, no spouses, no kids or dogs. It had been beautiful. Dean’s divorce had become final the month before, and Castiel had somehow known exactly what his husband and brother-in-law needed. He had offered to watch Tristan for an entire week, handed Sam a stack of cash he had saved up, and sent them on their way. While they were gone, Pamela had visited Tristan and Castiel almost daily, and it had gone a long way toward normalizing things within the family. As soon as the brothers had returned, Castiel had taken Pamela to a punk rock concert, and they had each come back from that weekend with a new tattoo. As far as divorces went, this one was about as good as it got. Tristan lived with Dean and saw his mother Wednesdays and weekends. Castiel and Pamela had formed a surprising bond over the past few years, mostly built around alcohol and music. Sam and Dean spent more time together than they had since Sam had gone away to school. Dean had started seeing a woman who also had a son, and had finally, after all these years, cut back to only fifty hours a week at work.

Sam smiled as he thought of it. Dean would always love Pamela. There was no doubt of that. Some nights, Tristan would visit his uncles, and Dean and Pamela would meet at the Roadhouse to sit at the bar with old friends and remember easier times. Then he would call Lisa on his way to pick up Tristan, and tell her how glad he was that she and Ben were in his life. Sam liked that Lisa did not feel threatened by Dean’s ex-wife remaining a friend. He liked Lisa for a lot of reasons, mainly that Dean looked so relaxed and healthy these days. He still enjoyed getting a beer with Pamela, but it reminded him how much stress and drama there had been, and he happily went home to his son and the new life he had made. Tristan and Ben were about the same age, and when they had finished sizing one another up, they had determined that they had a better chance against Dean and Lisa as a united force. It would be cute if they weren’t quite so scary.

Then came the foster parade, as Dean had called it. Kids came and went through their doors, and Sam and Castiel barely had the time to catch their breath. To say they were caught off-balance would be a grave understatement. Even with all the research they had each done, even with the personal experience Castiel had, they were emotionally unprepared for the unique stress of fostering teenagers.

The social workers all said the same things. “You two are doing a fantastic job! I just can’t believe how much thought you two have already put into this. It’s like you’ve thought of everything!”

This became their private joke whenever they felt overwhelmed. “But at least we’ve thought of everything,” they muttered to one another every time something caught them by surprise.

Initially, they were used as an emergency home for kids who were removed from their current situations but who needed a place to be for a night, a weekend or a week. It was exhausting, but they knew how important it was, so they put their heads down and carried on for nearly six months that way. Finally, the social worker who had originally inspected their home and approved them as foster care guardians, Tessa, met with them about their first long-term fosters. Castiel had burst into tears when they had gotten the call, and Sam had held him in strong arms and let the exhaustion and relief flow into himself from his husband as only he knew how to do.

“Dr. Novak, Dr. Winchester, I’d like to place a set of half-siblings with the two of you long-term. They’re really great kids, a year apart. Jada is thirteen. Damon is twelve. They’ve been separated several times, and I know they would really love to be placed together.”

“We’d love to have them,” Castiel remarked in a calm, deep and professional voice, with none of the gasping emotion he had wept into Sam’s chest the night before. “I know how important it is to keep siblings together whenever possible.”

Sam gripped his hand under the conference table.

“It’s hard to find someone willing to take two older kids sometimes. But like I said, they really are great kids.”

“And like I said, we’d love to have them.”

Tessa put her folders down and smiled at them, falling a bit out of her professional demeanor. “You know, it isn’t easy escorting lost souls from one bad situation to another. You do your best for them, you give them all the strength you’ve got, but you’re really just the escort. Where they land? You can never really know. You do your best,” she said again with a sigh, “you try to prepare them. They ask questions you can’t answer. And you hand them off down the line, and just hope they’ll be all right. We got lucky when you two came along. You’ve been really good for our emergency situations. I almost don’t want to lose you for that.”

Sam could feel Castiel begin to tremble almost imperceptibly. He held the hand tighter.

“But I know you two want something more long-term.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Castiel murmured. “It’s…important to us.”

She nodded. “Of course it is. But I do want to thank you for what you’ve done for the kids who have come through your place. I don’t know if I can tell you just how important it is to have a place we know is safe for these kids in an emergency.”

There was a soft twitch at the corner of his husband’s lips as Sam glanced at him. He cleared his own throat and spoke for the first time. “We appreciate the opportunity you’ve given us. And we’re grateful for all the effort on your part. Jada and Damon…what is their situation?”

Tessa shrugged wearily and returned to the files. “Same as a lot of them. I’ll let you look over their files, but would you like to meet them?”

Blue eyes shot open wide. “They’re here? We can…meet them today?”

“Of course. Once all the paperwork is completed, if this feels like a good match, we can have them moved in as early as next week. They’re coming from two different homes, so it will take some organizing to get it all together. Before they join us, I want to tell you, if this doesn’t work out, I don’t really see a joint placement for the two of them in the future. I don’t want to pressure anything, but…please do know that this will likely be their last chance to grow up together.”

 _No pressure_ , Sam had thought dryly. But one look at his husband told him there was no chance at all of these two children leaving today without a permanent home. Sam had smiled at the man fondly. Castiel was already fiercely in love with two kids he knew nothing about and had yet to meet. When Castiel loved something, he became viciously protective. There would be no question as to where the children would be living, and that they would be safe there, if Castiel had anything at all to say about it.

Ten minutes later, a girl was brought into the room by a young social worker. The girl’s hair was braided neatly, and she was dressed in what must have been her best clothes. Her eyes flitted around the room, and Sam’s heart ached as he recognized immediately what she was looking for. “Your brother will be here soon,” he assured her.

Jada looked up as though she had not even really noticed the large man there. Then her eyes narrowed. “I know,” she murmured.

 _Dean_.

Sam’s chest tightened. He had known how Castiel would react to meeting the children for the first time, but his own reaction shocked him. Castiel could relate to being moved from house to house and shelter to shelter, but Sam knew exactly what it was like to look into a room filled with strangers and seek his brother’s green eyes before noticing anything else. He knew what it was like to see Dean’s protective gaze searching for him before he would light up and allow a smile to pass his lips.

It was the same for Jada when a young boy was ushered in. She relaxed and smiled softly. “Hey,” she whispered with relief.

The boy grinned at her. “Jay!” He threw his arms around his sister and held on tight.

“You’re the new foster parents?” Damon’s escort snapped.

Sam turned quickly, then glanced at Castiel to introduce them. “Yes, ma’am, we-“

“Good luck with that,” she sneered.

The girl’s social worker sighed. “Jada likes to go to church now and then. Is that going to be a problem?” she asked pointedly.

Sam frowned. Even across the room, he could feel Castiel’s muscles tense. “No. Why would it be a problem?”

“Well,” she muttered. “You know.”

“I don’t see it as a problem. Jada, if you’d like to go to church, we’ll get you there.”

“Thank you,” the girl said quietly.

“If it becomes a problem, you’ll need to contact the department, and we’ll arrange for something else.”

Realization dawned on Sam as he sent a quizzical look to Castiel and intercepted a dangerous glower in return. He took a deep breath. “Yes. Well, we’ll keep that in mind. I don’t think it will be a problem.”

“You won’t need to worry about church with Demon,” the other woman scoffed. She smiled tightly at the boy. “Will they?”

“It’s Damon,” Jada warned quietly.

The woman laughed without humor. “Oh, Damon knows I’m just teasing him.” She patted the boy on the back. “Tess, I’ve got to go meet with someone. Can you…?”

Tessa’s eyebrow went up. “Of course. I’ll get his paperwork ready.”

“You’re a doll.”

A thin smile was her reward. “Thank you for coming. I’ll see that Damon gets home after eating lunch with his sister.”

“Thanks, Tess!”

Castiel stared after the woman, then turned to her younger associate. “Any other concerns you might have?”

She sighed. “Look, let’s be honest.”

Tessa’s eyes widened at the words. “Haeli? Can I speak to you please?”

Haeli looked at Jada. “Just so you know, if you’re uncomfortable at all in this situation, or if your brother is, you just let me know. You don’t have to live in a situation you’re uncomfortable with.”

“Haeli, now.”

As the two social workers stepped out of the conference room, Sam looked again at Castiel, who was breathing a little too shallowly through his nose.

“Wow,” Damon snickered. “What a bitch.”

Jada swatted at his arm. “Shut up, Damon.”

“She is!”

“Yeah, but you don’t just say that!”

He shrugged. “At least my bitch knows she’s a bitch. I think yours thinks she’s protecting us.”

Castiel cleared his throat. “She’s right, you know,” he said quietly. “If you’re uncomfortable with anything, you’re welcome to say so.”

Sam remained quiet and watched the two kids with interest.

Jada tugged a little at one of her braids. “My brother’s an ass, but I want to be placed with him. You want both of us?”

“We’re offering both of you a place to live, where you can be together,” Castiel said carefully.

She looked at her brother.

Damon shrugged with a smile. “You heard her. I’m a demon. Still want us both?”

Castiel simply smiled back. “Even more now.”

“Dude. Your hands.”

Sam watched as his husband lifted his fingers for inspection. Other than the tip of a feather peeking out of his shirt collar, it was all that could be seen of his tattoos.

“That’s all right!” Damon cried.

Jada rolled her eyes and looked at Sam. “You two are married, right?”

He nodded. “We are.” 

“And that’s what Haeli has a problem with?” she said, gesturing to the whispered argument going on between the social workers outside the windows of the conference room.

“I suppose so.”

“Does she not get that our mom tried to sell me for drugs? She thinks that’s better than living with a couple of gay doctors?”

Damon smirked. “No, Jay. We’re better off with the folks I’m with now! You know, the ones that said if they didn’t place me somewhere else by next week, they’d throw me in the street.”

Castiel took in his breath sharply. Sam could practically smell the protectiveness oozing from his husband several feet away.

“Damon’s foster dad is threatening to kick him out. But a couple of gay doctors? That’s just crazy.”

Sam smiled at Jada. “We aren’t medical doctors, Jada. Cas is a research psychologist, and I’m a professor of law. We both work at universities.”

She looked up at him. “You’re a teacher?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“I want to be a teacher.”

Tessa slipped back into the room awkwardly. “Drs. Novak and Winchester, I’d like to apologize for Haeli’s misunderstanding.”

“Sounds to me like she didn’t misunderstand anything,” Castiel challenged.

She turned to him. Her voice was soft, but she held her ground firmly. “I think she badly misunderstood how much we value guardians like the two of you. And I regret that she’s put us all on bad footing.”

Jada shrugged. “I don’t care what Haeli says. I like them. And so does Damon. So if they like us, can we just do it?”

The social worker smiled then, and sat down, gesturing that they should all do the same. “Let’s do this right, shall we? Jada, Damon, this is Dr. Novak, and this is Dr. Winchester.” 

“Sam and Castiel,” he said quickly, gesturing to himself then to his husband.

Damon elbowed his sister from his seat. “Dude at home makes me call him Mr. Milton.”

“Castiel?” Jada said, and looked at the man for perhaps the first time. “What kind of name is that?”

He smiled at her warmly. “It’s the name of an angel. So, Jada, if you’d like to go to church, I’d be happy to take you.”

She beamed at him. “An angel? What kind of angel?”

Sam watched his husband’s eyes clear of the annoyance and sparks of anger he had seen there moments ago. They darkened with fondness for this girl. “Cas is named for a guardian angel, one who watches over humans and keeps us safe.”

Jada nodded slowly. “I like that,” she murmured.

“So do I,” Sam agreed. They shared a smile, and then Damon spoke up.

“So I can call you Cas and Sam?”

“Yes,” Castiel confirmed. “We wish you would.”

“Awesome,” the kid replied.

***

Castiel was counting in his head, and some of it was spilling out in murmurs. “Jada, Damon-“

“Damon’s at that school thing,” his sister interrupted helpfully.

He frowned. “Right. Jada, Tom-“

“Tom’s at therapy.”

“Not forever. He’ll be back in an hour.”

“But you know he doesn’t ever feel like eating after. He’ll stuff some cookies into his pocket and go to his room.”

Castiel had to admit that was true. “Okay. Jada, Evan…” He paused, waiting for her to chime in.

“Evan is here,” she provided.

He nodded. “Okay. Jada, Evan, Sam. Who am I forgetting?”

“You.”

“Right. Jada, Evan, Sam, me.” He smiled and looked down at the kitchen bar where Jada was quietly doing her homework. “How did I ever cook before we had you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know how you did anything before you had me.” She lifted her head long enough to wink at him, then went back to erasing a math problem.

He stopped what he was doing to watch her. His mind floated back to the first day they had met one another, when she had been all big braids and narrowed eyes. “You certainly did grow up beautiful, didn’t you?” he said quietly.

Jada looked up with surprise. “Me?”

He turned back to chopping vegetables, with a thoughtful look upon his face. “Yeah. You. You think I’m talking to Mira?”

The collie yipped when she heard her name.

The girl laughed. “I look the same as I always did,” she answered as she reached down to pat the dog.

“You were always beautiful,” he corrected. “But you really have grown up gorgeous.”

“What’s wrong, Cas? You sound…you sound kind of sad.”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, of course not.”

“This because of Evan?”

He took a deep breath and stared hard at his cutting board as he worked. “We didn’t get as much time with Evan as we have with you and Damon. We haven’t gotten to see him grow up like you two.”

Jada was smiling at him with her sweet, intelligent eyes. “He’ll come back, Cas.”

Castiel shrugged. He absently pulled at the collar of his gray tee shirt underneath the open white button down with the sleeves rolled up over his elbows. “That’s up to him. He says he will.”

“He will, Cas. We all will. You know that, right?”

He licked his lips and nodded. “Right,” he said quietly. He stared at his own hands as they chopped the onion more finely than he meant for them to. For the first time in many years, he felt himself reacting to the onion and sniffed against it. His eyes blurred for just a moment, and he rested his palms on the counter as he waited for the sensation to pass.

Slender, graceful arms swept around his waist then, locking at the hands at his middle. He blinked in surprise and a tear flew down his cheek. “Jada!” he whispered.

The girl, who had always been very spare with her physical affection, who had taken nearly a year to give her first hug to Sam, and longer before she would do the same for Castiel, held him tightly. He relished the feeling, stopped everything, even thought, to just feel her warm hug. Jada did not give them free. No one knew better than Castiel that the next embrace might be a very, very long time in coming, so he savored it, memorized it.

“Cas, Evan’s going to come back. And so will Damon and I when it’s our turn. Even Tommy. You know he will. You and Sam are family. You’re the one always saying family doesn’t end with blood. Do you think we never listened when you said that?”

It wasn’t the onion.

Jada twisted to face him, and put her pretty fingers up to his cheeks. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “Cas, you’re our dad. Okay? Sam too. So don’t think you get rid of us just because we turn eighteen.”

Castiel wanted to hold her, but he knew she might shy away, and he did not want the contact to end. “You’re not far behind him,” he breathed sadly.

She wiped his tears away and smiled. “Nope. Eight more months or something, right? Then Day and Tom right behind us.”

He opened his eyes to frown at her. “That’s not helping.”

The girl laughed and dropped her hands, taking a step back. “Cas, we aren’t going to drop off the planet. You and Sam might actually enjoy a quieter house, you know.”

He swiped irritably at his eyes, getting to work on his sauce again. “How will we be able to concentrate on anything without Damon’s music competing with Tom’s and you breaking hearts on the phone, and Evan cursing at all of the rest of us?”

“You’ll figure it out.” She walked back around the bar and sat back down to work on her calculus.

Castiel swallowed with difficulty. “Thank you, Jada.”

She smiled, but did not look back up.

There came the familiar crash of Evan’s feet on the stairs. Castiel snickered to himself. “It’s like a moose emerging from up there.”

Jada giggled. “Sam’s just as bad.”

“A whole family of moose. Evan, Tom, Damon, Sam and Miranda.”

“You and Erik and I are the only quiet ones. When the zombies come, we’ll have to leave the others behind. They’ll give us away.”

“What?” Evan demanded as he walked into the room to find suspicious laughter.

His foster sister smirked at him. “Sam’s going to make you do his laundry.”

“What? I borrowed one shirt.”

She shrugged and lifted a manicured eyebrow. “One shirt a day is a whole wardrobe. And he’s going to make you clean them. He knows you just toss them in with Tom’s stuff.”

“Shut up,” he muttered. “I do not. If Tom’s got his clothes, then Tom stole his clothes.” He sat at the bar and put his elbows up, shoving Jada’s textbook out of the way. “What’re we eating, papa?”

Castiel chuckled. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Masturbation and one of Tom’s joints will do that to a guy.”

“Ew!” Jada grabbed her books and disappeared for the dining room table. “God, Evan! You’re so crude!” she yelled behind her.

“Stop weirding out Jada. It’s hard enough being the only girl in the house.”

“Mira’s a girl, and she don’t care,” Evan pointed out. He smirked as the dog yipped for attention. “See? Seriously, what’re we eating?”

“Spaghetti, and seriously, stop weirding out Jada.”

“She’s just so easy.”

“Then find a challenge.”

He put his feet up on the barstool Jada had abandoned. “What, like Sam? He’s just as prissy as Jay.”

Castiel knew he should correct that, but he could not help smiling.

“My favorite is the double bitchface. I live for the Sam-Jay bitchface.”

“We can tell.” Castiel tossed the cooked ground turkey, onions and green peppers into the sauce pan and considered the carrot. He looked up at Evan.

"I won't tell Sam and Tom it's in there."

He laughed and began chopping as finely as he could manage. "So?" Much like Jada and hugs, Evan did not plant himself in front of Castiel for no reason. And it had not escaped his notice that he had run Jada off quite effectively.

Evan shrugged. "So I'm almost done _Catch 22_."

A pleased smile came over him. "What do you think?"

"It's pretty screwed up, man."

His lips twitched into a smirk. "I'd say so."

"You think it was really like that?"

"I think it's creative fiction with a great deal of truth to it."

"Screwed up," Evan muttered again. "Doesn't surprise me it's your favorite. You want help in there?"

“It’s your turn to cook tomorrow. I'll take care of this."

"Tomorrow is Friday. It's pizza, dude. No real cooking involved. I can handle spaghetti, Cas."

"You sound like Sam."

"Except I really can handle spaghetti."

Castiel snickered to himself. Poor Sam had taken a beating tonight and not been there to defend himself. "Sam can cook a bit," he said lazily.

"Whatever. So, you ask him about Saturday?"

"We don't need to ask him about Saturday. That's the point. You'll be eighteen." A gray dread came over the man again. He stirred the sauce absently.

"Yeah. But I don't want to piss off Sam if I can help it." For once, Evan's voice was less sarcastic and more concerned. "I mean, he must not mind tats. He married you."

"There's no accounting for taste."

"Shut up. Sam thinks you're an actual freaking angel. He'd love you even if you covered your face like a clown."

Castiel's eyes widened. "Wow. No, I don't think he would. I think you've stumbled on the only thing that would actually make Sam have to leave me after all this time. His hatred of clowns may actually be greater than his love for me." He pointed his wooden spoon at Evan threateningly. "Don't you ever tell Tom or Day that he hates clowns. They'll torment him and I'd have to kick their asses."

"Seriously? He's got a thing about clowns?"

"Evan!" he warned.

He laughed and put his hands up. "No, I get it. I promise. That'll be our secret, till I need blackmail."

The older man sighed. He supposed that would have to do.

"Speaking of which, I broke all of Tom's cigarettes and stole his last joint. Thought you'd want to know."

"You're a pillar of the community, Evan."

"Hard work being the good kid," he reflected with a dramatic sigh. "So the tat. Sam's good with it?"

"I wouldn't say he's good with it. I'd say he has been briefed on the plan."

Evan rolled his eyes. "Right." His voice got quiet then, and when he spoke, Castiel turned to look at him. Evan was tall and large, about the size Sam had been when they had first met. He suspected Evan would not quite reach Sam's height, but he was larger than Castiel himself already. His messy dark hair and blue eyes made it easy for others to assume he really was Castiel's family, which he liked. In fact, if there was a foster who looked like Sam and Castiel had mixed their genes, it was Evan. He was even similar in personality to the two of them. He had Castiel's jaded perspective on life, and Sam's biting sarcasm, but he also possessed the intelligence they were each known for.

Castiel reminded himself to listen to the young man speak.

"So I've been thinking more about what I want. It's kind of all I can think about, really."

If there was anyone who could relate to obsessing over new ink, it was Castiel. "Don't rush it. If you want, we can always wait a week. Your skin will still be there."

"Yeah. But I really want it Saturday. Is that stupid?"

"No. I understand."

Evan smiled softly. "I know you do," he responded. "Where did you turn eighteen?"

He took a breath. "In a boys' home. I literally waited by the door until midnight made me legal and I ran. Because I knew they couldn't do anything even if they caught me."

The young man shook his head. "Wow. You know how many times I wanted to jet out of a home?"

"Yes. I know exactly how many times."

"Yeah. I guess you do." He was quiet for a minute, and Castiel cooked the noodles without much thought, feeling his chest tightening in the silence. Finally, the boy spoke again. "So? How'd you make it? What did you do for money and someplace to sleep?"

"Evan, you're turning eighteen in two days. You think I'm going to tell you my escape story? Screw clowns. You really want to freak _me_ out, go watch Eastwood escape from Alcatraz." He refused to meet the boy's gaze.

"Sam would. But you wouldn't try to stop me."

There were no onions to blame now, so he ground his teeth together and glared at the pasta as a threat to any wayward tears. "No," he said through his teeth. "I wouldn't."

Evan was nodding. "Cas, I ain't going anywhere. You know that, right? I mean, I promised you I'd graduate, man. That's seven weeks away."

 _Seven weeks_. That was nothing at the pace they lived, Castiel thought sadly.

"Besides, Sam keeps leaving catalogues for community college on my bed, like some freaking guidance counselor elf, like I'm not going to know how it got there."

Castiel burst into laughter, grateful for the relief.

"And the last time, the stupid elf left a note saying that in case I was somehow unaware, that elf was willing to help pay for it and help me get an apartment if I would take classes."

He could hear the search for confirmation in his voice. "I don't know about any elf. But Sam and I are ready to help you with whatever you choose to do next. And for what it's worth, we both would like to see you take some classes till you figure out your next step. You're smart, Evan."

He snorted. "You gonna pay for Tom to go to school?"

There was a small smile in his voice as he answered. "Of course. Not that I really think we will have to worry about that. I'm hoping by next year, he'll commit to a tech program. And Dean said he'd give him a start at the garage if he could handle not being a dick to people."

"So want to see how long that lasts."

"How long what lasts?" Sam called as he and the other boy walked in the door.

Before Castiel could stop him, Evan grinned. "Tommy not being a dick. Wondering what his record is."

"Least my dick's breaking records," Tom snapped.

Evan's mouth opened but Sam cut off the inevitable rebuttal. "Okay, boys. I've been dealing with legal posturing all day. I don't need a stag fight at home too.” Sam put his jacket on the hook and turned. “Evan, is that my shirt?”

"Who'd win in a fight?" Tom said suddenly.

"What?"

"You and Cas. Who'd win in a fight?"

"Another thing straight couples don't hear often," Castiel sighed.

Sam smiled at him. "Used to be a time Cas could have trounced me. But I don't know. He's kind of old and pudgy now."

Castiel continued spooning sauce onto plates of noodles. But a dark eyebrow lifted very slightly.

His husband laughed. "He's allowing me time to rethink that statement before he kicks my ass. See that tiny smirk in his eyes? That's a man who never has to worry about another human challenging him. Memorize how Cas does it, and learn to fake it. Nobody will ever mess with you if you can pull it off. Just pretend you're half as badass as Cas is, and you'll never even have to prove it."

The blue eyes rolled. "That has got to be the worst advice either of us have ever given as parents."

"You kidding?" Evan cried. "That's the most useful shit I've ever heard. Works too. I used the Cas eyes on a kid at school yesterday, who looked like he wanted to start something, and he literally swerved out of my way like nope, nevermind."

Sam and Tom laughed, and glanced at Castiel, whose face remained passive.

"The Cas eyes," Tom snorted.

"Use them for the force of good, boys," Sam teased.

At last, Castiel threw his hands up. "Enough! Everybody out! Wash for dinner or I'm feeding Jada and Erik your portions! You too!" he added when his husband failed to move fast enough.

The laughter followed behind the men, and finally Castiel smiled.

***

The snickering was back that night as they got ready for bed. Castiel turned slowly to face the younger man. “What?” he demanded. “You’ve been giggling to yourself for ten minutes.”

Sam shook his head. “The Cas eyes,” he laughed wearily, as he lay on the bed in his tee and boxers.

“Shut up.”

He lifted himself up onto his elbows. “Make me.”

“Make me?” Castiel repeated incredulously. “That’s your challenge?”

He watched Sam lick, then bite into his lower lip as the dark hazel eyes swept over him. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Make me, Angel. You still think you could take me, then bring it.”

Castiel scoffed. “I don’t think there’s any need to prove anything.” He turned toward the mirror to remove two of his ear piercings and place them in their case. He rolled his shoulders back to enjoy the sound of Sam sucking in his breath. Sam loved watching his back muscles. He had shamelessly lusted over his husband’s inked back for as long as they had been together. Castiel took great pleasure in the effect he knew it had when he went shirtless for him.

On the other hand, Sam was just as aware of Castiel’s weakness for his strong arms and chest, and when he glanced in the mirror at his husband, he could feel a ripple of excitement sparking inside him as he thought about putting his hands under that thin tee shirt. He had noticed Sam had locked the dogs out, a sure sign that the man thought he was getting something tonight.

“You know, we played this morning,” Castiel reminded him as he crawled over his husband’s body onto the bed.

“Some new rule about once a day? I didn’t get the memo.”

“Can’t help but notice you seem to like the idea of me kicking your ass.”

Sam was grinning. “Not my fault you’re hot when you’re…always.”

He burst into laughter, lowering his forehead to Sam’s chest. “God, you’re eloquent when you’re hurting for sex.”

“Ain’t hurting,” Sam corrected. “But Day’s gone till tomorrow night, Jada and Evan are asleep, and Tom’s got his music blaring in his ears. Good a night as any to take our time.”

Castiel continued to laugh. “Keep talking dirty like that, and see where it gets you.”

Sam reached up and put his mouth next to Castiel’s ear. “I locked the dogs out and set the coffee machine. I even laid out your suit for tomorrow morning.”

“Ooh,” Castiel teased. “Now that’s hot.”

“Seems like pillow talk went differently a few years ago,” Sam admitted, lowering himself back to the bed.

“Maybe,” he murmured, sobering. He carded his fingers through the soft hair with adoration. “But I don’t think we were happier back when we could leave the bedroom door open and scream.”

His husband looked up at him with a content gaze. “No,” he agreed. “We were happy. But we weren’t happier.”

Castiel put one hand on the mattress, and slid the other one down beyond his husband’s strong stomach. He delighted in the way Sam’s eyes went glassy as they tried to focus on his face while his hand worked. “Tell me what you want tonight,” he offered softly. “I want to take care of you tonight. As much as you let me, till you pass out. Maybe after you’ve passed out.”

A sigh and a gasp were his response.

“What can I do for you, pup?” his deep voice rumbled. “What can I do to give you even an ounce of what you give me just by coming home to me? Just by being my home?”

“Kiss me. We’ll see where that goes.”

Kissing Sam Winchester was the most achingly erotic activity Castiel had ever partaken in. The man kissed with so much unbelievable passion that it felt as if he were being filled and depleted all at the same time. The way he closed his eyes so tightly, and the needy way he pressed up into Castiel’s mouth, it was enough to get his blood boiling with want. Depending on his mood, he might bare his teeth and suck his breath in through them in a dangerous way that made Castiel’s eyes blow wide in hunger, or he might lick into Castiel’s mouth and hold his bottom lip between his two, then whimper and move as if he were drinking honey from his lover’s tongue.

Ten years ago, Castiel had believed their sex was too good to get better. But the effortless way their bodies moved together, the way their skin and flesh fit so perfectly, the way they each knew what every tiny sound, smile and shiver meant, it was only getting better with every year that passed.


	2. Sleep, Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam awakens the hard way.

Sam had slept like a rock after Castiel’s attention, but at just after four o’clock, he awoke with a frown. He was disoriented, sweating and shaking. For several frightening minutes, his mind refused to clear, and anxiety built in his chest. His breath was coming too shallowly.

 _Dean_.

His whole life, it was his first thought when panic set in.

 _Find Dean_.

He forced his eyes to open, and at last, he could identify where he was. The walls had Castiel’s artwork on them. There was the mirror over the dresser. Turning his head resulted in locating the door to the bathroom, and then the door to the hall. His brain processed these things and began to piece together the last twenty years of his life. Dean was not there. There was no truck. This was home now. And Castiel was curled up next to him, and he had let in the dogs late last night after Sam had fallen asleep, so Miranda was under his arm where she belonged. Sam pulled her in for a squeeze, and she rolled but did not open her eyes. He put his face into her fur, then kissed the top of her soft head and climbed over her to get out of the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel murmured.

“I’m okay now,” he tried to say, but it was hoarse and unconvincing.

The sleepy cat stare was on him, blinking too often. “Sam?”

“It’s okay,” he said again. “Panic attack. I’m fine now. Just…need to breathe.”

“I’ll get you something to drink. Juice?”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, don’t get up. Really. It’s not a bad one. Just having trouble orienting. But, look, I’m fine. I’m going to check on the kids.”

Castiel’s head rested back on the pillow. “I love you, pup.”

He smiled shakily. “Good thing,” he responded. “Go back to sleep. You got work in three hours.”

“Day’s at the school thing,” he murmured as he closed his eyes and drifted off again.

Sam watched him for a moment as he was normalizing his breaths. Castiel knew he might have forgotten to account for Damon’s absence in his sleepy state, and might have fallen to another burst of anxiety. “Thank you,” he whispered to his unconscious husband.

He stepped clumsily out of the room. He thought for a moment that Miranda might join him, but instead it was Erik who trotted after him. Erik seemed to be aware on some level that Sam was distressed. It was rare that he had anxiety attacks anymore, but when it did happen, Erik was always inclined to keep the large man in his line of sight for a while. Miranda was less concerned.

“Come on, buddy. Let’s go check on some kids.” He wandered toward the former guest room, which had been adapted for the only girl in the house, since it had an attached bathroom. He opened Jada’s door only a crack, just enough to hear her soft breathing. He put his head on the doorframe and listened for a few minutes, matching his own breath to hers, letting it calm him and make him feel human again. Then he slowly closed the door to turn toward the stairs. Erik padded after him. His heart was already pounding, so his breathing was off again by the time he reached the top of the stairs. It made him roll his eyes. Sam had always prided himself on his strength and health choices. To be winded at the top of one flight of stairs was embarrassing, even if he and Erik were the only witnesses.

Catching himself reaching for Damon’s door, he rolled his eyes again. “Right,” he muttered. Then he turned across the hall and opened the door to Tom’s room. The rumble of music burst from headphones sliding off the boy’s ears. Sam reached for the MP3 player attached to them and gradually lowered the volume before turning it off completely. He might not have bothered.

Tom’s gray eyes snapped open with a ferocious glower.

“It’s okay, Tommy. It’s Sam.”

The boy grabbed his guardian’s wrist in a vise grip.

Sam struggled to keep his own breath steady. He touched Tom’s wrist in a firm, comforting counter. “Tom. It’s Sam.” He sat on the bed where every muscle in Tom’s body was clenched tight against something only he could see. He put the hand Tom was gripping onto the boy’s chest, and let him feel the weight of it through his tee shirt. “Tom. It’s Sam,” he said again. “Tell me who we are.”

The shallow breaths were coming fast, but the boy’s eyes were working to focus. “I’m Tom. You’re Sam, and I’m Tom.”

“That’s right, Tom. It’s Sam. And I’m here to help you sleep better, okay? I’m just going to turn off your music. It’s been on all night.”

“Sam. Sam?” 

“That’s right. Who are we?”

“You’re Sam. I’m Tom.”

“Am I going to hurt you, Tom?”

“No,” the boy breathed. “No, I…I’m sorry.” His eyes finally glanced down at his own hands. “I’m sorry.” He released Sam’s wrist with a guilty expression. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”

“Once more.”

Tom pulled in a deep breath, and the trembling was easing. “I’m Tom. You’re Sam. You’re not going to hurt me.”

“Okay. Can you sit up?”

The eyes were clearer, and the glare was less frightened and more angry now. But there was shame there too, and it broke Sam’s heart to see it. “Of course I can. Jesus, Sam, get off me.”

Sam watched him for a moment before lifting the weight off Tom’s chest. As soon as he had done so, however, the boy’s shallow breaths began again, the fear swallowing up the anger.

“Sam!” he called, as if, along with the contact, he had lost his guardian completely. He reached blindly for the hand. “Sam!”

“I’m here, Tom.” Sam replaced his hand on the boy’s chest. “You’re all right, Tom.” He repeated the boy’s name several times, until the fear had passed.

The shame was now the prominent emotion on his foster’s face. “I’m sorry. Really. I really am. God, I’m such a freak.”

The word hit Sam’s heart with too much force tonight. Just minutes after his own bout of anxiety, he had pulled himself together to help Tom through his episode, but he felt overtired and overly emotional. He would not let Tom know it, of course. “No, Tom. You’re hurt. You’re scared. You’re not a freak. And you don’t have to be sorry. Come on. Sit up. Can you?”

It was the same question as before, but Tom considered it before responding this time. “Yeah. I think so.” He pulled himself up, and sat gripping Sam’s hand for a full minute while he waited for the trembling to subside. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again.

 “It’s all right, Tommy.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Tom, try not to curse. You know it bothers Jada. I’d like you to get out of that habit, even when you’re upset. I know this is when it’s hardest. That’s why you need to work on it all the time. I slip sometimes too, but we should try.”

The boy nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. How are you feeling?”

“Stupid.”

Sam smiled without meaning to. It was exactly how he had felt after every anxiety attack. Thoroughly, irreparably stupid. Tom’s episodes were not that different. There was more severe disorientation which could strike even when Tom was awake during the day, but a lot of the rest of it was similar. The racing heart left them both exhausted. The difficulty taking a breath only added to the anxiety. And it was entirely humiliating. Sam understood that.

“You’re not stupid. Tom, would you mind if Erik comes up for a minute? He’s worried about you.”

Tom gave a shaky smile. “Come on up, buddy,” he murmured.

 Erik leapt immediately, and set about sniffing all over the boy, giving a tiny whine, then curling up with his head on the boy’s lap, looking for all the world like he knew exactly what was going on and was determined to make it all better. Tom buried his hand in the dog’s curls. Sam knew from experience how comforting the dogs could be.

Sam stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Tom, you gotta get some sleep. You listened to your music all night.”

“I know. I kept meaning to turn it off. But it helped.”

“I know it helps while you’re awake, but it also keeps you from sleeping well. Remember what the doctor said just yesterday? You need to get more sleep. Better sleep.”

Tom nodded. “I heard him. But he doesn’t understand.”

“I think he does understand, Tom. I think he understands completely. He knows you’re strong enough, smart enough, to help yourself. Be a part of your own healing, he said. He wants you to take more responsibility for your own health. And that means not skipping out on dinner Cas tries to feed you, and not blaring music into your brain all night long. Especially angry music.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was impossible not to smile at the boy, not to love him so much it hurt his chest. “Tom, Cas and I are so glad you’re here. Do you know that?”

Surprise lit Tom’s face then. “What does that mean?”

He laughed. “What does it sound like? We’re grateful you found your way to our home. And we’re proud of the effort you’ve made, especially lately.”

Tears were filling the tired eyes now. “I’m trying,” he whispered. Erik looked up at him in concern. “I swear I’m trying, Sam.”

“We can tell. For one thing, I only seem to have to steal your cigarettes away from you on Thursdays anymore.”

The eyes lowered, and a guilty laugh let a tear fly down his cheek. “Yeah. I just want them on therapy days. Is that stupid or what? I mean, that should be the day I don’t need them.”

“You don’t need them at all, Tom. And you know that. But I understand that you want one when you’re stressed.”

Tom scowled as he scratched at Erik’s head. “Doesn’t matter much when freaking Evan comes in and breaks all the ones you don’t steal.”

Again, Sam could not help the wry smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Well, that’s the closest Evan’s going to come to telling you he cares about you. If he just did it to annoy you, he’d break something else.”

“Weird having brothers,” Tom said suddenly.

“You’ve had foster siblings before.”

“Not like this,” he corrected. “Not like…like they’re real brothers. And Jada. But especially Evan. He’s a prick, don’t get me wrong. But he’s like…like a real big brother. It’s…weird.”

Sam nodded. “He thinks it’s nice too,” he said quietly. “Can you get some sleep?”

“Yeah. Do I gotta go to school in the morning?”

“Absolutely.”

“You suck, Sam.”

“Goodnight, Tom. Erik, stay.” The dog looked up again, then lowered his head back to Tom’s lap.

“Sam? Thank you.”

“Sleep, Tom.”

Sam shut the door quietly behind him, then startled badly when he found a large figure leaning on the wall next to it. “Jesus Christ, Evan!” he hissed.

The young man chuckled. “You really shouldn’t curse, Sam. Jada doesn’t like it, you know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t anybody ever sleep around here?”

“Heard Tom call for you. I didn’t know if you were there or if he was dreaming again. So I came down to check on the little shit.” He shrugged. “You know. To smother him if he wouldn’t shut up.”

He heaved a sigh. “That’s very altruistic of you, Evan.” He stretched his neck to the side until it released tension with a crack. “Go back to bed.”

“He okay?”

“He will be.”

“He’s got Erik in there with him, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Evan turned toward the second set of stairs toward his room.

“You are a good big brother, you know.”

“Screw you, Sam.”

He laughed and watched Evan climb to his little studio upstairs. He noticed the young man left the door open partway, and knew it was so that he could hear Tom if the boy called out again. It was what Dean would do. “You are a good big brother,” Sam whispered again.

When he slipped back into bed, Castiel turned toward him and entangled himself in Sam’s limbs. It was a warm, insistent snuggle at the same time as a fiercely protective posture. Sam smiled contentedly. It had been an exhausting night, but it was entirely worth it when he considered that it was all for family. He fell back to sleep reminding himself to call his brother in the morning when he got to the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am always very grateful for comments. Thank you for reading!
> 
> ~Posing


	3. Last March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every last weekend in March, there's a reunion at the Roadhouse...

Dean was looking forward to tonight far more than he had expected to. He tried not to seem like he was in a hurry to leave the house. "Anything else?"

The babysitter smiled. "I think I've got it under control, Dean."

"Tris? You listen to every word Jada says, you hear me? No matter what Ben does, you be the good kid," he teased.

Tristan laughed. "Yeah, Ben. Stop being a bad influence."

Ben shoved him and they both cackled.

Lisa frowned at the boys. "Maybe this isn't a great idea."

Dean spoke up quickly. "No, no, it is. It's a great, great idea. Jada?"

"I've got everything handled, Ms. Braedan. I promise. And if you'll feel better, call me every half hour for a report."

Lisa gave the girl one of her beautiful smiles. "That won't be necessary, Jada. I'm not worried about you. My kid's been hanging around Dean a lot lately. That's all."

Dean burst into laughter. "Oh! So I'm the bad influence here!"

Jada smirked at him. "Then the further away you are, the better! Go have fun!"

"Tris, don't wreck the place. And Ben's the guest, so let him pick games."

"Jay-Jay, can we have an AC/DC rock party?"

"Yeah!" Ben shouted as they raced toward Tristan's bedroom. "AC/DC rules!"

Lisa pinched at her nose. "Bad. Influence." She poked Dean in the stomach to punctuate each word.

"Not my fault your kid's got good taste."

Jada managed to throw them out of Dean's own house, which he appreciated. Now they were on their way to the Roadhouse, and Dean was beating on the steering wheel happily and pushing his luck with every yellow light.

Lisa giggled at him. "You are way too excited. You're going to make me nervous."

“Lise, these are good people. The best people. And I can't wait to show you off."

"Your wife will be there, won't she?"

He nodded, and the beat died down to tapping. "Probably. You going to be okay with that?"

"Of course. I like Pamela. I've just never been on her turf before. When I met her, it was when she picked up Tris from my place when you two were over that weekend."

"You're not on her turf," Dean sighed. "Lise, please. She's Tristan's mom. I can't just..."

"Dean, stop. I'm fine with it. I have no problem with telling you if something is bothering me. Okay? Don't look for problems that aren't there. Okay?"

He smiled softly at the road ahead. "Okay," he promised. "Thank you."

"For what? Not being a catty drama queen? You don’t have to thank me for not being upset with you. Setting the bar kinda low, Dean."

"Thank you for being amazing."

"Oh. In that case, you're welcome. Who else will be there?"

Dean's grin was back. "Every year, the last Friday in March is like a reunion. Buddies from way back come in to drink Ellen out of house and home."

"You going to be okay?" she asked softly.

He did not have to ask what she meant. "I'm going behind the bar, so I'll just get the one beer, and I'll be on soda the rest of the night."

"Who else will I meet?"

It was nice that Lisa never nagged him. She knew he had it under control, that nagging only made him resent not being able to drink. "There's Ellen, of course. Her daughter Jo will be there, and she'll bring her partner Charlie."

"Partner?"

"Sorry. Charlie is a nickname. Her name is Celeste or something. Anyway, I always thought they'd get married, but Charlie is apparently against the whole institution of marriage. But they've been together almost as long as Sam's been with Cas. They'll be there too, of course."

"Okay. Who else?"

"Ash is always there. Ash has a room in the back he rents from Ellen. He's like the son she never wanted," he laughed. "Other than that, it's kind of a crapshoot who shows up to Last March."

"Last March? That's what you call it? That sounds so depressing!"

"Look, we were drunk a lot when this tradition began, okay?"

Lisa's sparkling laugh filled the car. It was music Dean's heart danced to.

He still found it hard to believe he was falling in love again. He had resisted it fiercely, but it had crept up on him. He had been divorced four years. After a long time, he had started going out on weekends, when Tristan was at his mother's, and picked up company for the night. He had all but forgotten how to do it, but his smile and eyes did most of the work for him, and it got easier. He had convinced himself that this was the closest to a woman he ever wanted to be again. Pamela hurt at his deepest level, and they were still good friends. He never intended to allow anyone access to his heart again. It hurt too much. Besides, he had to protect Tristan.

Then came Lisa. She worked at the gym. Dean had joined as something to do on Wednesday nights other than think of Pamela and Tristan and want to drink. Once he met the yoga instructor, however, he was there almost daily. He had gone so far as to rearrange his schedule at the garage so he could leave in time to hit the gym before he had to pick up Tristan at his after-school care each day.

And now this gorgeous, caring woman was sitting in his Impala where he had pictured her on the first day they had met. Tristan loved her, and Dean adored Ben. As terrifying as the idea of letting someone into their lives and hearts had been, Lisa and Ben made it incredibly easy for Dean and Tristan to fall in love again.

The Roadhouse was alive with loud music, shouts and laughter when they arrived. His grin spread as he caught sight of familiar faces. Most were around sometimes, but some he had not seen in at least a year, and none of them had met Lisa yet.

Ash was on top of a pool table. He looked like he was giving one of his lectures about quantum physics while drunk again. It always made Dean glad to see Ash had never changed. No matter what life did to him, Dean could always count on Ash to be business in the front and party in the back.

Dr. Singer was chatting up Sheriff Mills at one of the tables. Dean wondered if he had a chance, and decided he better leave them alone. Dr. Singer was in over his head, and he didn't want to interrupt. He was more of Castiel's friend anyway. But Dean gave a wink to the sheriff, who lifted her beer in greeting, then went back to listening to her companion.

"Oh wow."

Dean glanced at Lisa, then followed her stare. A laugh burst from his lips. "Some things will never change. Lise, that's Pamela of course. And that's Jo. She's the mutual friend neither of us were willing to part with in the divorce, so we agreed to share. And it's mostly due to her and Tristan that Pamela and I figured out how to do the not-being-married thing right."

Lisa was smiling now as they watched the women dancing on the bar. "Then I'm glad to meet her, if she helped you two work out something that is healthy for Tris. And any woman who can dance four feet off the ground in those boots is someone I have got to know better."

Dean loved Lisa.

***

Sam was drunk already. The enormous puppy had no tolerance anymore. It was incredible to watch. He nearly tripped over his husband when he saw his brother enter the room.

"Dean! Lisa!" he shouted.

They were already coming toward them, so the waving was probably unnecessary, and it was knocking Sam off balance. Castiel stabilized his husband, dozens of memories of college and their early marriage resurfacing. Sam had always been a giddy, weepy drunk, and now that he so rarely had any liquor, it had hit him like a truck tonight. Castiel did not mind. He had expected it.

"Dean! It's my brother Dean!"

The older man laughed at his unsteady sibling. "Dude, I just got here. Don't go passing out on me yet!"

Sam grabbed him into a clumsy hug. "I'm not going to pass out on you. I might pass out on Castiel though. God, have you seen him? He's the hottest thing in the room! And I think he likes me," he whispered to Lisa.

Lisa was giggling. "You know, Sam? I think he does. You should definitely make a move on that."

Sam winked at her conspiratorially.

Dean removed his brother and passed him into good hands. Castiel exchanged a look with his brother-in-law. "It might be an early night for us," he warned.

"Then let's get this party started!" he shouted.

Castiel watched Dean leap over the entrance to the bar like the last ten years had never happened. The crowd of familiar faces cheered, and Dean was basking in the love. It was the tenth Last March, and no matter how far some of them had strayed over the years, everyone had come home.

Ellen gave up command of the bar and went floating around the room, while Dean got to work pouring drinks. It was Last March and Ellen footed the expense, though almost every patron there had brought the one hundred dollar bill traditionally left in the tip jar. No tabs were calculated and no one went thirsty. It meant Dean would be entirely too busy shaking, popping and pouring to even notice he was not drinking too. Castiel was grateful for that arrangement. Besides, Dean always poured him a generous White Russian.

He felt Sam waving at someone else, and he looked up. A smile flowed across his face. "Gabriel."

The man had not changed. It was all in the smirk. Perhaps the hairline had altered slightly. Perhaps he was dressed a little better than before. But the smirk was exactly the same.

"Hey there, Sammy!" Gabriel called as he made for their position at the bar.

Sam was too far gone to correct the name. "Gabe!"

"Who is that gorgeous creature on your arm?" he teased.

"I know, right?" Sam said incredulously, as if Castiel could not hear them. "I think I married this guy!"

"Yeah, Sammy. I was there." Gabriel tossed a grin at Castiel. "What's he on tonight?"

"Tequila."

Their old roommate cackled. "Early night for you two then, huh?"

"Why's everyone keep saying that?" Sam mumbled.

Gabriel's face softened into the closest thing to an actual smile Castiel had ever seen him express. "Gotta introduce you, Cassie."

His eyes widened. "To whom?"

Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows and hurried away, then returned holding the arm of a beautiful woman.

Castiel stared. He had no idea what type of woman he had expected he would finally see Gabriel settling with. He wondered if it had ever occurred to him Gabriel might settle with anyone at all. He realized he had always pictured Gabriel and Raphael growing old together, smoking pot and barbing one another for the rest of time.

Now he could see the look on his oldest friend's face, and it was clearly love. And this woman was extraordinary. He could tell that at a glance. She appeared to have south Asian heritage, and was quite lovely. Her lipstick matched her red blouse exactly, and she was a bit overdressed in the black skirt. But the thing that was most obvious to Castiel was the way she looked at everyone in the room, including Gabriel, as though they were ants she could crush at any moment. He suspected Gabriel loved that.

"Guys, I'd like you to meet Kali."

Castiel held out an inked hand, but the woman looked uninterested. "No," she said quietly.

He removed the hand quickly, but Sam was slower to understand. "No what?"

Kali looked at him with complete disinterest. "Simply no." She turned then to snap her fingers at Dean.

Gabriel gushed. "Isn't she a goddess?" he hissed at Castiel.

"She's certainly..."

"I know!" Gabriel sighed. "You happy for me, little bro?"

Castiel put a hand on his friend's arm. "Of course, Gabe. Don't get yourself hurt."

His whiskey brown eyes danced. "I like her kind of hurt." The eyebrows wiggled again, and he hurried to follow after Kali as she crossed the room with her drink.

Sam stared after him while Castiel sighed. “I think Gabriel might be dating a demon.”

“Kali is the name of a Hindu goddess. I don’t think he’s even aware of that.”

“Which Hindu goddess?”

“The Destroyer.”

“Ah.” Sam nodded. “Well, he’s always wanted one of those.”

Castiel spared another moment of gazing at his old roommate, then turned to his husband. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m a little bit old for this.”

“We all are. Come on. Let’s go see the rest of your friends.”

“They’re your friends too, Cas.”

“Some of them,” he corrected, but he smiled anyway. Dean was serving something tropical to Kevin Tran and his wife Tessa, and Charlie was referring to them collectively as Tesvin when they wandered to that part of the bar. When Castiel caught himself wondering what the portmanteau for Gabriel and Kali was, he frowned at Charlie severely and ordered a double shot of top shelf vodka to wash out the bad taste in his mouth.

“What’re the big eyes for?”

“Better to see you with, my dear,” he intoned dryly as he threw back the tumbler Dean handed him.

Charlie giggled and slapped him on the back. “Cas, you are still the adorable, grumpy old man you were ten years back!”

“Thank you,” he sighed. He tapped his glass, and Dean happily refilled it. The two men shook their heads at Sam when he tried to order another as well.

“What?” he demanded.

Castiel took his hand but let Dean do the talking. “Sammy, you’re right at happy stage. Please don’t go toward the weepy stage. Okay? There’s such a fine line with you. It’s like a half shot difference between them.”

Sam treated him to an unsteady glare, then turned his bitchface toward Castiel. “You two are cutting me off?”

“Pup, your digestive system is going to cut you off if we don’t, and I don’t feel like explaining to the kids why you smell like vomit when we get home. You remember them, right? Three boys and two dogs?”

Sam nodded slowly. “Right.” Then he frowned. “But Jada too!”

“Jada’s at my place,” Dean reminded him as he reached over Kevin’s head to hand Tessa a beer.

“You’re not cutting off Cas. He’s had twice as much as I have.”

Castiel smiled fondly at the poor puppy while deferring again to Dean. “Cas can hold his liquor, jackass.”

“Oh, whatever!” Sam argued. “He once got so drunk he started telling me what an annoying voice I have and my voicemails are too long, and then he passed out while explaining why lawyers are bomb-binations and hypocrites rule the world.”

“I don’t think that’s what I said,” Castiel muttered. He only somewhat remembered that incident, so he could not be certain Sam was incorrect. It had taken Ellen, Jo and Benny all lining off shots against him for them to finally go shot for shot with him. Jo had thrown up while Benny took over, and Ellen had fallen asleep before the end of the game, but Dean had called it for Benny’s team. “Besides, that was before the foster guardian gig. Don’t judge me.”

“Judge you? I’m the bomb-bination, remember?”

Dean laughed. “Aw, Sammy. You’re so cute when you can’t say abomination.”

“Screw you.”

Castiel looked around them to find his old drinking rival across the room. “Benny! Hannah letting you drink tonight?”

Hannah’s blue eyes narrowed, but the large bartender barked out a laugh. “Of course! What’s Hot Wings having, Winchester? Set me up with two flights!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You guys aren’t twenty-two anymore, you know,” he admonished, but Castiel could see the sparkle in his eyes.

“Don’t ever try to tell Benny he’s not ageless,” Hannah sighed. “He proudly holds the opinion that not having died yet is proof of his immortality.” 

“Now, not proof, sweetheart. Evidence. It’s evidence. Every day I’m alive is just more evidence!”

“You driving, Hannah?” Ellen called.

She put her hands up. “I’ll get him home,” she promised. “Or I’ll leave him here. But I won’t let him drive.”

“Good enough for me,” Ellen shouted over the din.

“I’m the youngest one in the group,” Sam was saying to himself. “And most responsible. How’s that work?”

“Better when you’re not slammed,” Charlie said. “Cas, I’m taking your man.”

“Bring him back when you’re done.”

“Kev? Jo and I kick your asses for old time’s sake?”

Sam snorted. “Old times. What old times? You kicked our asses last week.”

Kevin rolled his eyes and kissed Tessa sweetly. Then he followed them to the tables, shouting, “I want a different partner! Sam’s so trashed he thinks he’s the youngest here, and that last Last March was last week!”

The giggling from Jo and Charlie indicated that Kevin’s request for a change of teammate was going to be denied.

“Set them up, Benny. I’ll be right back. And, Dean, catch him up, will you? I’ve had two doubles in the last three minutes. Have a heart.”

Dean grinned at Castiel. “You don’t need me to catch him up and you know it.”

But he shook his head. “I have kids at home, Dean. I know the abomination won’t be sober, so I can’t get Sammied tonight.”

Hannah and Benny burst into laughter, and the latter promised to go easy on him. Tessa smiled at him, and he winked a blue eye.

He slipped out of the bar after a glance behind him to confirm that Sam was standing without assistance and could even break without swaying. Once he was in the cool air, he picked his phone out of his pocket and dialed.

“We’re alive, Cas,” Evan confirmed, instead of saying hello.

A smirk took over his face. “Good. Day get home okay?”

“He’s here. He’s trying not to pass out. He and Tom each ate an entire pizza, so they’re heading for food comas. I don’t think I could get them up to cause trouble if I wanted to.”

“Glad to hear it. Got a movie playing?”

“Games. Saving people, blowing up things. You know. Family entertainment.”

“Right. Tom take his meds?”

Evan’s voice muffled a bit. “I think so. I’ll count behind him after he goes to bed.”

Castiel smiled. “You don’t need to do that.”

“It’s cool. Somebody’s got to keep track of the brat.”

“Jada call?”

“She texted Damon earlier. Said the kids are passed out inside the largest Lego castle she’s ever seen. She sent a picture. It’s pretty awesome. Tris and Ben are going to be freaking engineers or something.”

Castiel thought back to the time, years ago, when he had come home to find Sam, Tristan and both dogs asleep under a massive pillow and blanket fort. He smiled fondly to himself. “Evan? Did you get my message? The image?”

There was a pause. “Yeah. I think that’s it, Cas. I want to change a few details, but…I think you got it. You like it?”

He sighed with relief. “I really do, Evan. Clean that spot real well tonight, and put some lotion on it.”

“Will that make it hurt less?”

“Would you like me to say yes?”

The thick laughter on the other end was interrupted by a bark and a shout. Then Evan was speaking again, but not to him. “Jesus, Mira! Get off him! Damon, you better clean that crap up before Cas sees it! I swear to God I’ll break your hands if it stains!”

Castiel cringed. “You boys okay?”

“That’s up to them,” Evan responded irritably. “But yeah. Fine. I’m going to go break out the big brother voice now.” 

He could not help laughing at how deliberate Evan was about everything. “Sam says it’s all in the tone.”

“Yeah, and Dean says that’s bullshit. He says it’s all in kicking their asses a few times till they learn to listen.”

“I don’t think that’s what he-“

“Tom, you’re making it worse! Erik, Mira, outside! Go!”

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got everything under control.”

“And then some,” Evan agreed. “Place will probably be cleaner than when you left it.” Then his voice changed after another pause. “Cas, thanks, okay?”

“For what?”

“For the thing you made. I, um…I don’t think anybody’s ever…done anything like that for me before. So thanks.”

His chest tightened until he was having trouble breathing. “We’ll work out the last details tomorrow morning. I’ll take you out for coffee and we’ll polish it up till it’s exactly what you want. Then we’ll go get it done. Appointment’s at noon, and the guy’s the best I know. He did my wings, so I know he can do this. Okay?”

“Thanks, Cas.”

He closed his eyes. “Go easy on those brothers of yours.”

“Somebody’s got to keep things in line around here. Like Lord of the Flies when you, Sam and Jada are out.”

“I’ve got confidence you won’t let anyone eat each other.” When they hung up, Castiel’s eyes remained closed, and he leaned against the building wearily.

“You all right, Cas?”

The blue eyes snapped open, and he jumped away from the Roadhouse wall. “Lisa!”

The woman’s kind smile warmed him instantly. “Hi, Castiel. I thought I’d give Dean some space in there with Benny and Pamela. I didn’t know you were out here.”

He found himself returning the smile. “You’re really a very understanding person,” he said quietly. “About Pamela, I mean.”

She shrugged. “It’s not as big a deal as everyone makes it seem. She’s a nice person. Just because you love one another, that doesn’t mean you should stay together and make each other miserable. And they’ve got a beautiful kid together. You don’t have to live at the same house to be good parents. You do what you have to do, and you come when you can. So long as Tristan knows he’s loved, that’s what’s important.”

“I’m glad Dean found you. You and Ben are good additions to the family. Don’t let him screw this up.”

Lisa laughed. “Want to know a secret?”

“Always.”

“Dean knew me about eight or nine years ago. Still waiting for him to remember me. He looks at me sometimes like he’s having deja vu or something, but he never pieces it together. He’s adorable.”

Castiel snickered. “This was pre-Tristan? How drunk was he at the time?”

“Not drunk. Possibly hung over. Sam had talked him into doing some volunteer work at a non-profit women’s shelter affiliated with the university. On weekends, I would volunteer and give the ladies free classes. He did work on their cars and helped with handyman chores throughout the building.”

“I remember this. They had just had their budget slashed almost in half, and Sam had done some consulting work for them, and when he found out how hard up they were for volunteers, he had everybody pitch in some hours that summer. Pamela went and worked their clinic a few times to help their nurse, and Sam even found a grant-writer buddy of his to find them some funding sources. But he wanted Dean to go in to fix all the broken crap, as he put it. Dean said he didn’t have time, Sam did the puppy eyes, and the next thing I knew, he was putting in seventy hours between the Roadhouse and the garage, and ten at the shelter besides.”

“Some of those ladies who remember him from that still bring their car to him, because they know he won’t cheat them. Richie might try, but Dean won’t let him.”

Castiel chuckled to himself. “So? Are you ever going to tell him you remember him?”

“It’s more fun this way. He rarely wore his wedding band because he worked with his hands so much, so it took me a long time to realize he was married. Till I did, I used to complain about the air conditioning unit breaking down in the room I taught my classes in, every weekend, so he’d come check on it. He kept looking at me like he thought I might be an idiot, because it was always working just fine. Then all those years later, he came into the gym where I work now, and I recognized him immediately. A few weeks in, he started making all these stupid excuses to come into the yoga room where I teach, even though he hates yoga, and I finally figured out he wasn’t married anymore. So one time I complained about the air conditioner in there, wondering if he’d catch on. He looked at me for a really long time, but he just checked on it and told me it was fine, then asked me out to dinner.”

Castiel liked Lisa. He and Pamela had become friends over the last few years. He had insisted on visiting her daily at the facility she had checked herself into, and brought her music and sat with her to consume it without pressure to talk. When she had left the facility, she had visited him for lunches at the university here and there. He had helped her practice interviewing to pick up a part-time nursing position to replace the full-time one she had lost. He had watched Tristan so that she and Dean could attempt to reconcile, and when they had decided they would go their separate ways, Castiel had sat with her and listened to album after album play while wine poured. Castiel loved Pamela as his sister. But he liked Lisa very much.

“So? Is she a bitch?” Pamela had asked him over Wednesday lunch in his office one day.

He had smiled at her. “Do you want her to be?”

Pamela had considered this. “Yes. But not to Tristan.”

“She’s very good with Tristan.”

Pamela had lifted her eyebrows as she stabbed her fork into her salad.

“Not nearly as good as you.”

She had laughed then and pointed a forkful of greens at him. “You, Castiel Novak, are a diplomat if I’ve ever known one.”

“You like that about me.”

“I do. So? Is she a bitch?”

He had looked her in the eyes then and shaken his head. “Sorry. She’s nice. Very laid back.”

A nod was her response. “Ugly, though, right?”

“Extremely.”

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

“A little bit.”

“Of course she is.”

“She’d have to be, Pam. His standards have been set pretty high.”

She had smiled at him gratefully. “Damn straight. Does Sam hate her?”

“Of course.”

“He loves her, doesn’t he?”

“A little bit.”

“Damn.”

He had reached across his desk and taken her hand then. “Pam, Dean and Tris love you. Sam and I love you. That’s never going to change. Not for any of us. You’re family. But families grow, and I wouldn’t be sorry if Lisa and Ben joined ours. You will always be Dean’s first love. You will always be Tristan’s mother. You will always be our sister. And Lisa and Ben are good for your boys.”

Tears sparkled in her eyes for a brief instant, and she squeezed his hand. Then she returned to her salad as though nothing had transpired between them. “But it really is too bad she’s so ugly.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Castiel agreed solemnly.

He looked at Lisa now and could not help but smile. “I’m glad he met you again.”

“So am I. I’m glad he noticed me this time.”

“Hard not to, Lisa. You can feel your smile across the street.”

She looked surprised at the warmth in his voice. But her smile dialed back a bit and she placed a hand on his arm. “And you can feel from across the room that you’re not well. What’s going on?”

It caught him off guard to hear the conversation turn like that. He glanced down at the phone still digging into his palm. “Nothing. Everything’s…A little tired. That’s all.”

“Okay. You want to talk about it?” When he hesitated, she rolled her pretty eyes. “Look, it’s either talk with me or go pound down shots with Benny while watching your husband lose money to Charlie and Jo.”

He cringed. “Kevin let them talk him into a bet knowing how smashed Sam is? Thought the kid was smart.”

“He seems smart, but I get the feeling those two women are sneaky, and sometimes that trumps everything.”

Castiel could not argue with that. “Okay. Really, nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking about my kids.”

“The fosters?”

He considered. “How close are you with your family?”

Lisa shrugged. “My dad passed a while back. My mom lives with my sister and her family. I’m close with my sister. Maybe not like Dean and Sam, but close.”

“Dean and Sam are a particular case,” Castiel agreed. “But do you think, all else being equal, if you didn’t share blood or a name, you’d still keep in contact with them years after moving out?”

Her smile was kind, and she moved to take his arm in hers. “I know I would.”

“Really? How…how does that even work? I mean, you talk on the phone, I guess.”

There was a bit of confusion in her eyes when she smiled up at him now. “What do you mean?”

A flush of embarrassment spread across his face. He was not even sure how to explain. “I don’t have family outside of Sam’s. You know that, I guess.”

“I didn’t, but go on.”

Castiel swallowed with difficulty. “I was a foster myself. Aged out of the system without ever really connecting with anyone. When I went to college, my housemate was estranged from his parents, though he hung out with his brother. Then there’s Sam and Dean. I don’t guess they’ve done much more than see John at Christmas in years. Tristan doesn’t even know him, really. So…it never really occurred to me to wonder just how families…”

The flush was burning his skin now. He knew the alcohol was contributing to his loose tongue. He could not help it. The only word for what he had felt building inside him for weeks was heartsick. He had overheard some colleagues at the university talking about their children leaving for college. They had used phrases like “leave the nest” and “just gotta let them go and hope for the best,” and then they had talked about fall break and parents’ weekend, Thanksgiving and winter break, spring break and summers. He had wanted to shake these parents and scream at them that what they were describing was not losing their children. It was not the end of anything, because they knew their children would come back to them. He wanted to scream that it was nothing like knowing they might be gone forever, that dirty laundry and charges for late night pizza were blessings if it meant they could spend Thanksgiving reunited.

Evan would be the first of his true fosters to leave him. The others had been ghosts in the night, gone before they had really soaked into his heart. He had known the others were temporary placements, one night or two weeks, and then they would be gone from his home. But these four living there now, they were his. He had been given permission to love them, protect them. He could not simply turn that off on their birthday, or even graduation day. Evan would be the first to break his heart irreparably. When it was Jada’s turn, the broken pieces would shatter completely. He knew he would never survive it, and that was consolation because it meant he would never live long enough to lose Tom and Damon.

It did not matter how many times one of them said they would keep in contact. The truth was that they didn’t know. Castiel had nothing to hold them. And he did not even really know what keeping in contact meant.

“You know,” Lisa said as though she were just making conversation, “Dean loves Christmas. He pretends not to, but he really does. When we met again, it was in November, and he was already thinking about it. About what he’d do for Tristan, what he was getting for Sam. He grumbled a bit about his father, but I could tell he was excited to see him again too. We only started dating at New Years, but he came in the gym a few days between, saying he was there to get out of the house for a while, but I think he came just to tell me all about the egg nog Sam spiked, and Jada making cookies with Tristan, and the way John taught Damon and Tom to play poker.”

Castiel rolled his eyes at that. “Yeah. He said it was a life skill.”

“Dean was so pleased with everything. He said he had always wanted a big family Christmas, and it was just him and Sam for so long that he figured it would always be that way. Said that even before he got divorced, he knew he and Pamela weren’t having any more kids, and that he had thought Sam didn’t want to be a father. So he had been looking at a long life of just the four of you, and sometimes John. And he said he was perfectly okay with that, but that he was so thrilled when you and Sam started long-term fosters. And he’s said many, many times since then that he feels like he has nephews and a niece now, that Tristan has cousins. We both love that Ben and Tris are the same age, and that they get along so well. Who knows what Dean and I are headed toward? But I know he couldn’t be happier than having so much family around him. If you think that man is going to let those nephews and that niece walk out after high school and not look back, you are out of your mind. He will hunt them down every Thanksgiving and Christmas, and every time we have a barbecue in the backyard. There is zero chance that those kids will get away from their uncle Dean.”

Castiel blinked suddenly. He was listening so intently that he did not realize tears were escaping from his eyes, and his hand hurried to put an end to it. He could never have expressed, even to himself, what it was he needed to hear, but that was it. Lisa had said exactly what he needed to hear. It wasn’t just Castiel. The family loved these kids, they would fight to keep them together. Dean would hunt them down every holiday to make sure they knew they belonged. It wasn’t just Castiel, or even just him and Sam. And the teenagers cared about one another as well. They had become siblings, brothers and a sister, the way Castiel had always hoped they would. Surely they would not forget that just because they left home.

“You all right, Cas?”

“I’m much better than I was before you came out,” he said sincerely. “Thank you.”

“I’m going to go in and see how Dean’s doing. And maybe I’ll take Benny’s challenge since you don’t seem inclined to.”

A laugh shook several more tears loose, but he did not bother with them this time. “He’s all yours. Hannah will be relieved.”

She reached up and hugged him warmly, then disappeared back into the Roadhouse.

Castiel watched her go, then looked down at his phone again, and smiled.


	4. What We Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk Sammy worries about Castiel, but sober Sammy knows what he needs.

Sam was running his hands along Castiel’s inked sleeve relentlessly. He smiled at him. “Sam, how are you not unconscious?”

“I feel like you ask me that a lot.”

“I feel like I do too.”

“Angel?” he murmured. “I think I’m in love with you.” His head was extremely foggy, but he felt sure that was the thing he meant to say when his mouth opened.

“I’m glad, Sam.” Castiel closed his eyes again. Sam was sorry about that. He liked his eyes.

“I’m not a lawyer.”

“Yes you are.”

Sam waved this away. “You know what I mean.”

“You’re not doing what you thought you’d be doing. But you’re doing what you like doing. That’s better.”

He blinked. “What’s better?”

“Sam, please sleep.”

He nodded, and sat up in the bed. It took a moment to let the room stop spinning. “I think if I were ever going to get married, it would be to you.”

Castiel frowned then, and turned toward him. The sudden movement startled Sam, and it was hard to refocus. “Sam, all night, you’ve been talking like it’s years ago. Something wrong?”

“Seeing all those people again. Kind of puts you out of time, doesn’t it?”

His husband relaxed. “Yeah. Especially when you bathe in tequila.”

“Did you ever want to be married to a woman?”

The eyes did not open, but the dark brows pushed up. “I beg your pardon?”

“No, a woman.”

“Yeah, I…Okay. Um, no. Not really. No more than I would ever want to be with another man.”

“You do?”

Finally, the blue was shining on him again. “What? Sam, stop. You’re too drunk and I’m too tired. If you have something you want to talk about, wait till tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow’s too late.”

He stared at him. “Too late for what?”

“What?” Sometimes Castiel was very hard to follow. “Slow down.”

The look Castiel was giving him now was difficult to read. It might have been because of the tequila.

He didn’t know where they had gotten off track, but he knew where he wanted to return. “Cas, did you ever want to be married to a woman?”

“No, Sam! What are you even…”

He nodded. “But you could have. You dated women. You’re not like me. You could have done that. And still been happy.”

Castiel’s hand was in his own messy hair now. “Yes, Sam. I’m attracted to women sometimes. Doesn’t mean I want to run off with one.”

“But you could have had your own kids.”

Something like realization dawned on his husband’s face. “Sam, do you think I regret settling with you?”

 _Settling_. Because that was what Castiel had done, when it came down to it. “Settling for me, you mean,” he said miserably, in a very low voice. “You could have had anyone. Someone who could make you a dad. Someone who could make you proud. You thought I’d be a corporate attorney. That’s called false pretense.”

Castiel’s inked hands were on his face. He was quiet for too long. Sam sighed unhappily while he waited. “Sam, don’t. You’re drunk, man. You get like this when you’re drunk.”

Except he didn’t. Not anymore. He had been a weepy drunk years ago, but that was then. Now that he had everything he had ever wanted in his life, even tequila couldn’t convince him he didn’t. But tonight felt different. Castiel was not happy. He had felt it for weeks, and it had bloomed into something Sam could almost taste in Castiel’s lips. “Okay. I’m drunk. So? Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“You think I married you under false pretenses? What, like I was unaware you were male?”

“That’s stupid.”

The beautiful man reached for his hand, which was still tracing lines across his skin. “Sam, what do I have to do to make you go to sleep?”

“You could have sex with me.”

Castiel scowled. “You’re kidding, right? Of course you’re not kidding. You’re never…Sam, I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. I’m glad I married you. I’d do it again. And I’m going to have to hurt you if you don’t close your eyes.”

“I’ll throw up if I close my eyes. Come on. I’ll do all the work.”

“No! I’m not going from do you wish you had married a woman to sex! And I’m certainly not going from I’ll throw up if I close my eyes to sex!”

Castiel wasn’t making any sense. It was probably because he was overtired. “You should probably sleep, Angel.”

“Probably,” he agreed dryly. He sighed heavily. “Did you drink that bottle of water?”

“I drank a lot of other things.”

 “Sam?”

“I’m drinking water.”

Castiel grabbed his hand again. “Sam, I can’t sleep if you keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Petting me. Pet Mira.”

“She got irritated and went to sleep with someone else.” His eyes got wide. “You’re not going to do that, are you? Please don’t do that, Cas!”

“Sam, if you don’t go to sleep right now, I’m calling Dean and making him come kick your ass.”

“You can kick my ass.”

“I’ll be asleep.”

“Right.”

Sam stared up at the ceiling, enjoying the numbness in his body, except for the slightly nauseated sensation in his gut. Damn Benny and his drinking games. He turned onto his side to stare at Castiel, who had already fallen back to sleep. He wanted to touch his skin again, but he knew he probably shouldn’t. His mind drifted over a hundred things, from the contracts he wanted to look over before work on Monday morning to how Dean and Lisa had looked tonight to whether he should get up to take a shower.

His eyes had closed at some point, and he gave himself over to dreams and memories till morning.

***

Sam had gone with Castiel to touch up a tat one time. Never again. Castiel obviously appreciated the gesture, but not the fact that Sam had looked ill the entire time. He had politely declined the next time Sam had offered, and the younger man was grateful for that.

But before he had started thinking too much about what it was that was happening to his husband's skin, he had been fascinated to get a glimpse into this part of Castiel's persona.

When they had walked into the studio, Sam had been captured by both the barrage of color and the images of darkness and beauty around him. There was a scent he still could not identify, and a flood of punk rock crashed over him. Not that it was loud, exactly. It just seemed to permeate the studio and vibrate everything in it.

"Castiel!" a voice shouted in greeting. A large man with ear gauges and abstract coloring on his throat, arms and even his face raised a hand to wave from across the room, where he appeared to be sketching. "Cole! Castiel's in, man! You didn't tell me this son of a bitch was getting inked today!"

A shorter man with a cocky grin stepped out of a curtained-off back room. Sam's eyes widened. "That's Cole?" he hissed. Castiel put an elbow in his ribs.

Cole crossed the room to embrace Sam's husband. Sam watched Castiel clap the other man on the back and hold him a moment longer than Sam really thought was warranted.

"Hey, Cole," Castiel said warmly.

Sam frowned. He had not expected the artist to be quite so...well...hot.

Cole's own tattoos were far more subtle than the other man's. Like Castiel's, most of them were black or gray, and several were extremely graceful. Cole himself was a slender, muscled man who Sam would have put money on being former military. When he spoke, it was with a very distinctive Southern drawl that made Sam dislike him very strongly. It was undeniably sexy.

"Heya, Castiel," the man said quietly. "Cleared the morning for you."

Sam's eyes narrowed.

But Castiel burst into laughter. "You're full of crap, Trenton. I paid extra to get you in on a Saturday morning so I could have you to myself!"

That did not make Sam feel any better.

Cole stepped back and laughed too. "But I agreed to it, didn't I? Remind me what we're working on? Which wing?"

"Left."

He nodded. "I didn't think my left looked like it needed it last time."

Eyebrows lifted at the wording. "Your left?"

Castiel looked like he had just remembered Sam was in the room. "Oh. Sam, this is Cole, the artist who did my wings originally. And just about everything else I've done over the years. I designed them, but he was the only artist I could find confident he could do them right."

"I turned you down, didn't I?" the other man called.

"You're the one sent me to Cole."

Sam suddenly didn't like that other guy much either.

"Anyway, they're just as much his wings as mine. He likes to remind me of that."

"Come on, Castiel. Let me see them. I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours."

Castiel snickered. "Go easy. It's bad enough he has to see the machine on me. He's trying to be a good sport, but keep ragging him like that, and he will break you."

Cole looked Sam up and down, then shrugged with a wicked smile. "And wouldn't that be fun, Sammy?"

"Cole," Castiel warned.

He put his hands up. "Sorry. Never thought I'd ever get to meet a guy who's seen Castiel without clothes more than I have."

Sam's eyes widened.

Castiel gave him a glare, but there was no heat behind it. In fact, Sam could see his mouth still quirking in humor. "Cole, you have a wife. Stop scaring my husband."

"Wasn't for lack of interest, Castiel! Not if I remember right. What was that? Five years ago? Cole, was that five years Castiel's been coming here?"

"Longer," Castiel muttered, avoiding Sam's stare.

"What's that mean?" he snapped.

"That your husband is the only guy I ever slept with," Cole said helpfully.

Sam nearly swallowed his tongue.

Castiel threw up his inked hands. "Fantastic. Perhaps you could make his first time seeing me inked a bit more awkward somehow."

"He slept with my wife once too. We weren't married at the time. It's how we met. Castiel here is a matchmaker."

The memory made Sam cringe many years later. He had known Castiel had enjoyed many partners before they had met. He just did not appreciate being ambushed by one.

Castiel ran his tongue along his teeth with annoyance. His glower was real this time. "Cole, you're very lucky you are the most talented artist I know." He grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him back out of the studio onto the sidewalk amidst laughter.

Sam took a breath and looked down at Castiel expectantly.

His husband closed his eyes briefly. "I thought Kit and Cole could be adults."

"Evidently you give them more credit than they deserve. So? Before we met?"

"Long before. And he made it sound like...His wife was not...It wasn't at the same time, if that's what..."

Sam could not help smirking. "Was this before or after your wings were finished?"

Castiel looked surprised. "After," he replied. "Why?"

"So you didn't screw him between treatments, or whatever you call them."

"Sessions," he said. "And no. It was one time, about three weeks after my last session for my wings. It was...experimental for him."

"Why was it just once?"

He sighed. "He wanted to continue but I didn't think it was a good idea. Sam, I will walk out, and never come back if that's what you want."

"No! Of course not!"

"If it's the deposit, it wasn't that big a deal. It's just a touch up."

He shook his head and kissed Castiel's lips gently. He hoped Cole was watching. "No. You said he's the best. I want only the best for your wings."

The love in those blue eyes nearly knocked him over with intensity. "He is the best artist I know. And he's a dick. But we have been friends a really, really long time. You know I don't have many of those."

Sam smiled at him. "I know. Just go. He can rib me all he wants about you taking off your shirt for him because I'm going to take off your pants later." He leaned in to whisper, despite having the street mostly to themselves. "I know how much getting your ink touched up turns you on."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "No, Sam. That's you."

"Oh. Right. I knew it got one of us off." He winked. "I'll take my jealousy out on you after. For now, I'm going to sit and watch a hot guy paint you from behind."

The idea of the needle made Sam sick to his stomach, but he consoled himself with the image of his new husband without his shirt. It took a lot longer than he realized it would, and over the wait, he watched Cole interact with Castiel. Once the two of them had come back into the studio holding hands, Castiel had announced that Sam had agreed to a threesome, in case Kit and Mrs. Trenton wanted to watch. Cole had burst into laughter, and the tension had been gone immediately. Instead of Castiel, Cole began flirting with Sam, until the shirt came off.

Cole's eyes narrowed, and he was suddenly all business. The laughter from a moment before was gone in a flash, and he became the professional Castiel had always described him as being. He chatted with Castiel as he examined the wing, touching and commenting, sometimes to Castiel and sometimes under his breath to himself.

"It isn't too bad, man," he said at last. "I knew it wouldn't be. You take care of them like you're supposed to, not like a lot of jackasses out there. I don't want to charge you for something you don't need yet."

"I'll need it soon enough. And they're my wings, Cole. I can't let them fade out, even a little."

Cole shrugged, looking closely at the reptilian design. "Damn, Castiel. Those were the most beautiful, badass wings I ever saw. Still one of my favorites of all time."

"Thank you."

He nodded. "Okay. You could use a bit of color to sharpen the outline. But I used the best stuff available on it the first time, so it ain't going to fade the way some crap ink does." He sniffed thoughtfully. "How are the hands?"

Castiel turned and stretched his fingers out for examination.

"I give them two years before we gotta touch them up. Maybe less. You're rough on your hands. Hey, Kit, get back here. Come look at the feather. You ever see this thing?"

Sam watched his husband smile with pride as Cole showed off Castiel's design. The black feather, accented by red, wrapped around a little finger. Sam knew what the others probably did not, that under the nail of the same finger lay the remnants of Castiel's first tattoo, a tiny bell which could barely be seen now that the nail had grown over it and so much time had passed. Sam was likely the only one in the world who knew that story.

By the time the touch up was complete, Sam knew exactly why Castiel and Cole were still friends, and he knew without a doubt he would never go to watch this sort of thing again.

Cole patted him on the back. "It's cool, man. I promise. Castiel is a freaking bull. Seriously. Nothing hurts the guy. I swear."

Sam knew his face was grey-green. "I'm all right. I know."

He could hear his husband laughing with Kit at the counter. Cole smiled grimly. "Guy doesn't even feel it anymore. It's like printing on leather. I didn't hurt him."

A laugh fell out of his own mouth. "You always reassure your clients' spouses?"

"Only when they look like they might puke on my floor or punch me. And only when I've been a dick to them that same day."

Sam nodded. "Glad you noticed."

Cole chuckled. "Sorry. Castiel is used to me messing with him. I shouldn't have done it to you."

"It's all right. You served, didn't you?"

"Did a few tours." He patted his forearm which displayed a gray eagle. "Guess it still shows sometimes."

"You move like a fighter. My dad was a Marine. There's a look."

"I guess there is."

"I appreciate the work you've done for Cas. He is always proud to show it off. And I'm always proud to show him off."

The man glanced at his friends chatting across the room. "He's a good guy. A brilliant artist. Tried to talk him into coming to work here with me and Kit a hundred times. Even joked that the only man who can pull off as much ink as he's got is a tat artist or a rockstar. But he won't do it. Which is good, because he's the only guy I know a better artist than me. I'd lose all my regulars."

Pride filled Sam's heart. "He's good. Only seems to use it for his skin, though."

"He promised me he'd sketch once in a while, just for himself. Does he?"

Sam suddenly felt a bit cold, even as color returned to his face. "Not that...not that he's shown me."

Cole shrugged. "Too bad. Anyway, sorry again for poking fun earlier. Your man's a great lay, but nobody ever saw him happier than when he found you. I did your cat and dog tat, you know."

A smile crossed his lips. "Did you?"

"Of course. And I never saw him happier. In fact, honestly? I think that was the first time I ever saw him happy at all. And when he showed me what he wanted to get, he couldn't stop saying how much he wanted you to like it. Castiel Novak ain't never cared about what anybody thought before. His ink is for him and him alone. So please tell me you loved it."

"I did. It was perfect. Thank you."

Cole shrugged. "Good. Good. You take care of that man. He's a grouchy son of a bitch, but he's brilliant, and we all love him. And you make him happy. We all love _you_ for that. Nice to finally meet you."

When they were walking to the car, Sam held his husband's fingers tangled in his.

"You okay? Any other...questions?"

Sam nodded. "Two."

Castiel felt like he was bracing himself. "Okay."

"Why didn't you tell me you had slept with Cole?"

He sighed. "For one thing, I don't ever think about it when I see him anymore. It was a really long time ago. He was experimenting. I knew that up front, even as he was swearing that's not all it was. He's married now too. We've been friends a long time, and there's never been tension until today. And I know you sometimes..."

"Sometimes?" he prompted.

"You get..."

"Jealous?"

"Sometimes. I didn't want you to think about that every time I wanted to work on my ink. And honestly, I didn't want to have to break in a new artist. A lot of them won't touch up somebody else's work."

"Okay. Don't do that again. Let me be ambushed like that."

Castiel sighed, and nodded.

"Second, do you ever sketch?"

"What?"

"Do you draw?"

"Draw what?"

He looked down at him, but Castiel was watching the sidewalk ahead. "When you were talking to Kit, Cole kept going on about how great an artist you are, and he asked if you ever drew at home. And I had to say I didn't know. But I didn't say no, because it suddenly occurred to me that I bet you do, but you don't show me."

Castiel's voice was very quiet then, and Sam nearly had to strain to hear. "Do I have to show you?"

It was not a denial. It was as though Castiel was actually uncertain as to marriage protocol regarding artwork. Sam squeezed his hand. "Of course not. But don't hide it. I won't look if you don't want to show me. But let's spend some money on some good supplies and give you time to yourself to work on it. Do you want paper and pens or a computer tablet?"

Castiel stopped walking and threw himself into Sam's arms. Sam was careful not to touch his left side, but otherwise held him as tightly as he could. He loved this man with all his heart. This man _was_ his heart.

So when he heard his husband's breath hitching in his throat, he took hold of his face in firm hands and looked into his eyes with intensity. "Castiel, Angel, you have so much talent. It would make me happy just knowing you were using it. I want to see it; of course I do. I show you all the doggerel I write. But if you've got something in you that needs to stay yours, I understand. Just don't think I'm going to let you bury it. The room upstairs, the one on the top floor? I'll make a studio out of it for you. A mini apartment where you can listen to your music and read and create, and you don't have to worry about me bothering you. You can tell me what you'll need, and we'll get it."

"I love you," his husband whispered.

"I love you. Now I promised myself that if I got through that needle thing without throwing up, I would get to tear your clothes off. Take me home or I'll do it right here in front of the bank."

The decision to take in Evan had meant Castiel lost his studio. He knew he missed the space Sam had made for him, with some minor help from Dean with the electrical wiring. But Sam had come home with an expensive graphic tablet and shown him how to use it, then had never mentioned it again. Castiel had been so grateful. Having his fosters and his art both secured into his home and heart made the actual physical space matter much less.

Besides, they had agreed they would limit their home to two kids after Evan and Jada left. When Tom and Damon left, they would consider fostering two more. But that was years away. Jada's space would become the extra room for her or Evan when they visited. And Castiel would get his studio back. He knew Castiel would rather have Evan than his studio, but Sam had insisted that they would set Evan up in an apartment, if he would let them, and would have no use for his old room. If Evan came back to visit, it would not be the room he was coming to see.

And Sam knew Castiel would be in mourning as soon as their oldest checked out of their miniature Hotel California. He would be comforted by spending time in the room Evan had used.

For Sam, it was far less an ending than a new beginning. Of course he would miss Evan. Weeks, maybe months before it was time for him to search for apartments, Sam was keeping track of which of his clothes Evan stole most often, so he could pack them up to go with the young man. But he was excited about the way these kids had come into their lives afraid, confused and angry, and were emerging confident and prepared, with the knowledge that they were loved and supported, that they always had a place to land if they fell. To him, the end of this chapter was a happy one. Castiel was heartbroken seeing the end in sight, but Sam knew better. Family was the most important thing in life, and his was strong and growing stronger every day. Castiel would learn. Sam would help him through it until then.


	5. Just a Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just any given Saturday...

The bed was empty when Castiel awoke the next morning. He lay for a moment before opening his eyes. It was not a weekday. That was obvious both from the lack of alarm and the lack of chaotic activity outside the bedroom. No dogs. That meant Sam was probably jogging while everyone else slept. He had not heard anything from Jada, so not a Sunday.

Saturday.

Castiel's eyes flew open.

Saturday.

He threw himself out of bed and stared at the clock. Evan had been a legal adult for seven hours now.

Cold, irrational fear drove through him like a stab of ice. He threw on his jeans from the night before, and flew from the room.

He took the stairs two at a time, rounded the second floor and up the last thirteen stairs between him and peace of mind. Evan's door was open wide, but no one was inside. Castiel's gaze darted to the desk. The laptop was gone.

Gone.

He could not breathe.

"Cas?"

The man froze. He waited to hear it again.

"Cas, you looking for me? I'm in with Tom."

The breath came back too fast now. He swallowed and cleared his throat several times before responding. "Evan?"

"Yeah. Come on down. We're just talking."

It took far longer than it should have to make it back down the stairs. He felt dizzy for some reason. He took a deep breath, and descended to enter Tom's open doorway. Just as promised, there was Evan sitting backward on Tom's desk chair, facing the younger boy, who sat cross-legged on his bed in jogging pants. Evan's laptop was closed on Tom's desk.

"Hey, guys."

"Thought there was a freaking fire, Cas! You okay?"

He nodded. "Fine, Tom. Just...wanted to tell Evan happy birthday."

Evan was smiling at him with a look that said he knew exactly what was going on in Castiel's mind, but he just nodded.

"Dude, it's gonna be his birthday all day. Don't gotta get it all out now. Sam home yet? I want to talk to him."

Castiel shook his head. "He's probably out with the dogs."

"Day go with him?" Evan asked quietly.

Now he frowned. "What? I don't know. Isn't he still asleep? It's Saturday."

"I know. Usually knocked out till noon if you let him. But no, he's gone. I guess Sam talked him into a jog?"

Castiel's brain was already on high alert. He did not even need to switch gears before worry about the loss of a child set in. "I'll check on him," he muttered as he moved for the door.

But at that moment, the front door to the house opened, and the sounds of happy dogs, leashes, water bowls and laughter flowed up the stairs.

"Day, give me that one for Erik, will you?"

"No problem!"

"Shh. Cas is still asleep."

"Lucky Jada's at Dean's place or she'd be out yelling at us to keep it down."

Castiel rolled his eyes, and put a shaking hand over his face. He was getting too old for this crap.

"Cas?" Evan's voice was somewhere between amused and concerned. "Are you totally awake, man?"

It was an odd question, but a fair one, he realized. "Um. Not really. You guys are good?"

"Yeah. Go back to bed, man. You and I aren't heading out for an hour and a half, and you obviously need more sleep."

His hand moved to his hair now, and he tugged at it absently. "You two..."

"Dude. We're fine. I'll see you in an hour, maybe?"

Castiel nodded slowly. Finally, he began to smile. "Right. Yeah. Okay."

He slipped by Damon and his annoyingly cheerful and hangover-free husband, and went back to bed as per Evan's suggestion. It was just a Saturday, he told himself. Not the Apocalypse. Just a Saturday.

His eyes had just closed when he heard Sam enter the room a second before he felt the man attack him on the bed.

"Hey! Hands off of the angel, you sadistic-"

Sam's eyes were laughing. "Happy birthday, my love."

He blinked at the large, sweaty man in his bed. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Poor Angel. Didn't get enough sleep?"

"No! My husband is psychological mess when he's drunk. That's my expert opinion, by the way." He draped an arm over his eyes.

Sam waited.

A suspicious, blue gaze peeked out from under the ink sleeve. "Did you just say happy birthday? Sam, my birthday is end of August. You know that. And I don't celebrate it anyway."

"It's the birthday you've been waiting for for four years. Before we even knew Evan, you've been dreading the first eighteenth, because you took off on yours. Well, it's here, and so is Evan. So...happy birthday, my love."

Castiel was utterly unable to keep from smiling. He buried his face in Sam's chest. "You're a sweaty mess. And I think you're sweating tequila."

"Probably. Been a while since that happened, huh? Hey, I talked Day into a run this morning. He wants to try out for soccer."

But Castiel did not lift his head. Sam was one of the few humans on the planet who smelled good after running. Perhaps his senses were biased. In any case, he was disinclined to give up his snuggle now that he had surrendered to it.

"Cas?"

"Sam, I love you. It hurts sometimes."

The man wrapped his arms around him tightly. "It shouldn't hurt, Angel. Is something wrong?"

"Do you remember last night?"

He could hear the frown. "Uh, yeah. Most of it. Lost some money to Jo. Lost some sobriety to Benny. May have met a destroyer goddess. Lisa and Dean looked good together. Kevin's wife is hot. I think I'm missing the part between coming home and being awake this morning."

"You seemed to think I was sorry I married you."

Sam pushed him to arm's length and looked in his eyes. "What?"

If he weren't Castiel Novak, he would have called the noise he made a whimper. "Sam, it's been a stressful week."

There was a large, soft hand on his face. "I'm sorry for being a dumb drunk and making you more stressed, last night of all nights. What did I say?"

"That I married you under false pretenses. Like I was under the impression you were a wealthy woman."

Sam's eyes widened. "I said that?"

"Sam? You are everything I want. Everything I want and everything I need comes from you. I have never, ever stopped being grateful that you love me and let me love you." His exhaustion and near-breakdown from earlier that morning caught up with him, and he pulled himself back in to Sam's chest. "Everything good comes from you. And you're why everything good stays. Thank you. For my kids. For making this a home for all of us. I would never have known how."

Sam's voice shushed him as his hands rubbed his back and scratched gently through his dark hair. "Cas, it's all right. Isn't it? I mean...Evan promised to stay till graduation. He didn't run today like you were afraid he would. I was surprised you weren't staking out his room or the front door all night."

"If he wants to go, he should go. I put money in his backpack, and a bit in his jacket."

Sam laughed then. "A bit? Cas, he handed me five hundred dollars in cash this morning."

Castiel's face burned. "That's just the jacket pocket," he confessed. "He probably won't find the rest for a few days."

"Cas, he gave it back. You get what that means, don't you? Not only is he not leaving today, but he isn't leaving anytime soon. You understand that most kids stay at home until they are finished high school. Right?"

"I wouldn't have," he whispered.

Again, Sam pushed him back. "What? Really? If your birthday had fallen in February or sometime..."

"I wouldn't have graduated. Probably gone back for my GED. Maybe. But I know I wouldn't have stayed in that town another day, no matter when my eighteenth fell. I was done. Not with school. With everything else."

Sam nodded slowly. "Okay. Well, we worked pretty damn hard to make sure these kids didn't feel that way. And Evan handed me ten fifties today to prove to me he doesn't."

"You let him keep it, didn't you?"

"Half. I told him we were going to the bank to open an account for him on Monday after we sign the paperwork with Tessa."

"Sam? You recognized Tessa, right? Last night?"

His husband let his mouth drop. "Oh my god. That was the same....Jesus, Cas! How drunk was I?"

"Kevin Tran's hot new wife is our social worker."

"Oh god. She saw me skunked, Cas!"

He laughed. "Yes. Well, I may have put Hannah and Charlie on public relations duty at one point."

Sam buried his head in his hands. "Oh god. Tell me I wasn't..."

"You were fine. I had Lisa chat with her about how well Jay is doing, that she was such a responsible kid that she was babysitting for Tris and Ben last night. And Kevin says she thinks it's good that we show the kids we trust them now and then. Dean talked about Evan's big brother role. It was fine. She wasn't there to spy on us. She was there to meet Kevin's friends."

"I still may not be able to look her in the eye come Monday."

Castiel laughed again. "Well, she's pretty short. I don't think you'll have to look her in the eyes." Then he kissed his husband on the lips softly. "Happy birthday, pup."

At last, a new smile broke over Sam's face. "Happy birthday, Angel. I'm going to shower. Jay won't be home till this afternoon. Day and Tom are upstairs driving Evan crazy. And the dogs are outside. Care to join me?"

A slow grin showed off Castiel's white teeth. "I have been a bit stressed," he reminded him.

Sam took his hand. "Let's see what I can do about that."


	6. More Permanent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beds are in high demand...

Evan had just turned sixteen when they started talking about moving him yet again. He had sat on the couch at the boys' home staring at the locked exit for hours on the morning of another in an endless series of interviews with a potential guardian. He had been denied legal emancipation for reasons he did not understand. His social worker, Ennis, had told him it had to do with their goal to get him to graduation.

Ennis was okay. He didn't blame him, not for the emancipation thing or for the fact that he had moved around so much that he had actually lost track of how many places he had slept. Sonny's place had been Ennis's idea, when he had been caught stealing shoes that fit right on his enormous feet. He would have stayed at Sonny's until he aged out, if they had let him. He liked the rural area, wouldn’t want to live there forever, but it was quiet. He liked the work they made him do. Sonny had been the first person in a very long time that seemed to care about what Evan turned into.

But beds are in high demand. It was the dry line that ran through his head every time he was moved, ever since he was seven years old and that had been the response when he asked why he had to leave again.

Ennis had told him they might be trying to find something more permanent for him. But he knew better. No one took in teenage boys. Even most kids' homes or shelters wouldn't take boys over thirteen.

So when Ennis finally called him in to the conference room, he was ready to smile and nod, and hear that it wasn't going to work out.

"Evan? Come sit. I'd like you to meet Drs. Novak and Winchester."

Great. Doctors. So they weren't looking for a new home. They were bringing him in for a psych eval. Fantastic. He had not had enough of that recently. "Hello," he muttered.

The one with the immense shoulders, and the legs that didn't really fit under the table, was smiling at him. "Good to meet you, Evan."

He glanced at the one with the intense blue eyes and the...Were those finger tattoos?

"Evan, these gentlemen are foster guardians. They are interested in meeting you and seeing if you would be a good fit for their family."

He frowned. "I thought you were doctors."

"They are. Dr. Winchester is a professor of law and Dr. Novak is a researcher. They've been married several years, and have three fosters at their home now."

He squinted as he tried to process this information. So...these were gay doctors. Still doctors. "What do you research?"

The guy with the art on his hands smiled. "Kids. I work in childhood development."

Evan nodded. Then a wicked grin that had prevented his adoption his whole life emerged. "So you experiment on kids. Awesome. How long till I get mutant powers?"

Dr. Novak had burst into laughter, and Dr. Winchester had turned to Ennis. "May as well just give us the paperwork," he sighed.

The interview had lasted another forty minutes, but Evan and Castiel had spent most of that making superhero references while forcing straight faces. Sam had tried to ignore them, but had failed badly, and had caught himself participating twice. Evan liked these guys. It was obvious they had a sense of humor, a quirky one like his. Too bad he would only hang out with them for a week or two before they shipped him somewhere else.

Then they hadn’t.

He walked into their house four days later, while the other kids were in school. Evidently, this Winchester guy was a legal expert, and he had this paperwork thing down to a science. He was impressed. Most guardians stumbled endlessly under the paperwork and court approvals and whatever else it was these things needed. Four days was all it took for Dr. Winchester, and Evan was in his newest bed.

When he had seen the bedroom that was meant for him, he had stared at it. “Who do I share with?” he demanded.

Castiel had smiled at him. “No one. Unless you think you’d prefer-“

“No!” He took a breath, and tried to be cool, though a flush was threatening his cheeks. “No, um…It’s cool. Privacy. I like it.” He loved it. It was essentially a studio apartment. When they had climbed two flights of stairs, he was beginning to wonder if he was headed for some kind of attic version of Harry Potter’s living space. But this was no attic. It was a full bedroom, bathroom and office. There was a drafting table for a desk, with a laptop on it, so obviously someone else used this space. But he didn’t care. The bed was for him, and it looked like he might even fit on it without sleeping with his knees tucked into his chest. The bathroom was clean. It had a shower and a tall mirror he would not have to duck to use. “This is…this is good.”

His new guardian nodded. “I hope so.” He gestured toward the desk. “They said you didn’t have your own laptop or a phone.”

Evan’s stomach flipped. “Uh, no. I use the school library for work.”

“Okay. You can do that if you like. But this is yours. Each of the kids has one. It’s ready to go. And Sam will give you your phone once he’s activated it.”

It was getting harder and harder not to look excited. “That’s cool.”

“And here.” Castiel was pointing toward the bookshelves. “You gave me an idea of what you liked to read when we met a few days ago. Remember?”

His chest was tightening. He did remember. He had thought they were just making conversation. “Yeah,” he breathed. Trepidatiously, he moved toward the shelves that lined the whole back wall. It was filled with trade graphic novels, science fiction, fantasy stories and classics horror. There was a small section with movies, which he could watch on his computer- _his computer!_ -and he saw a wide mix of superhero movies, thrillers and cult classics. At this point, he could not help himself. “Lovecraft, Stevenson…Dude. You own everything I’ve ever wanted to read!”

“No,” Castiel corrected. “You own everything you’ve ever wanted to read. And if there’s something missing, let me know. We’ll find it.”

Confusion, and a bit of fear, was making his throat contract, and he had to shove past it in order to speak. “I…don’t underst-You mean I can borrow these things while I stay here.”

“I mean they’re yours.”

“While I’m here.”

“Evan, these things belong to you now. If you decide to leave one day, you can take them with you.”

He barked out a bitter laugh. “If I decide? Like it’s ever me deciding! And, dude, they’d never let me take this much crap with me anywhere else! Jesus, you don’t know anything about foster kids, do you?”

Castiel was still smiling patiently at him. “More than you might think.” He paused for a moment, then began again. “Evan, you’re here until you don’t want to be anymore. You’re here until you graduate or you ask your social worker to move you out.”

The desire to flee was building in him. He gripped the bag on his back tighter. “That’s not how it works.”

“That’s how it works now.”

He swallowed. “Whatever. Guess you haven’t been at this long. You’ll learn. When they say permanent, buddy, it’s always preceded by the word ‘more.’ More permanent. I appreciate what you’re up to, but you don’t understand the system. I been in it since I was four, and I’m telling you, permanent is not a word that’s used without that qualifier.”

The smile was still there. Evan wanted to smack it off the guy’s face, but he had a feeling nobody with a brain messed with this man. “Evan, you’re very smart. And you’ve got a lot of experience. But you need to be careful what you assume other people do and don’t know. In any case, enjoy your space. Get comfortable. Unless you don’t like it here, Sam and I don’t intend for you to check out anytime soon. We’ll call you down when I’ve got lunch ready for us.”

Evan watched the door close behind him and frowned. Then he swallowed again. “Well, of course you trust me up here by myself. What am I going to do? Hop out the window?”

Then he began exploring. The bathroom was stocked with the basics. Toothbrush, toothpaste, soaps and lotion, shampoo, conditioner, cleaning supplies. An electric razor. “Good choice for the potentially angsty teen,” he muttered. There were brushes, combs, clippers, a hair product he didn’t know how to use, tissues and a hair dryer he knew he would never touch, wash cloths and towels, three of each, all sea green in a cream white bathroom.

He wandered back into the bedroom. Something about the bookshelves and the computer made his chest hurt, so he stayed away from them for now. He lay on the bed and confirmed that he would fit on it properly. A true smile came to his face then. “Doesn’t matter how long I’m here. I’ll sleep good while I am.” The floor was hardwood, but a dark rug covered a large area. He took off his shoes to continue looking around.

The desk was outfitted with school supplies. There was a graphing calculator, sets of good pens and pencils, a stack of new folders and notebooks, a box of colored pencils, and various other things he was glad to see. He spent a minute looking through the mundane luxuries, like paper clips, highlighters, index cards. His smile softened, and he had nothing snarky to say about this space.

His eyes floated down to find a mini fridge beside the huge desk. He grinned. “No way.” Inside, he found several bottles of various juices, and snack foods. “These guys are nuts,” he muttered to himself. But the smile was there to stay now.

Evan took a deep breath and headed toward the dresser to put away his clothes. The guy did tell him to get comfortable. Sometimes he did not even bother to unpack, but it might be fun to pretend this time. One drawer was empty, so he placed his things there. The others were full of carefully folded clothing. That was all right. He had lived in rooms that were used for storage before. He didn’t need much space for his own things. He began to turn away, when a thought occurred to him. He shook his head. “No,” he told himself, but he lifted one of the articles of clothing anyway. There was a pair of good jeans, in his size, with the tag still on it. “No,” he repeated, and put it away. That Sam guy was tall. Must be his.

He lay on the bed fully dressed until a knock came to the door.

“Hey, Evan?”

“Come in!” he called in a shaky voice.

This time it was Dr. Winchester. “Hey, Evan. You find everything okay?”

“I, um…Yeah, I…I didn’t look through everything, I mean. Just the desk. And Cas said I could use that computer, right?”

This man’s eyes were kind. He liked Sam. A lot. “Of course. It’s yours. Everything here is meant for you.”

“Except, you know, the storage stuff.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted. “What storage stuff?”

His throat was tightening again. “The stuff. In the closet and the dresser.”

“Oh. No, those are just some things to hold you over till we can take you to buy some things you like. We got your size from Ennis. I figured you can’t go wrong with jeans, tee shirts and hoodies. That’ll do for now, right?”

It took a moment to realize he was breathing too shallowly. “Most, um, most foster parents wait till they get state money for that. And then it’s a set of clothes or two at most, and a pair of shoes. I don’t…need anything more than that.”

“I think we’re a bit beyond what you need, don’t you think? I mean, I think we’ve progressed to the stage past that, right?”

“Why?” He hadn’t meant to say it, but it was all he could think.

Sam shrugged. “Because you’re here to stay. Like I said, next weekend, we’ll get you to the mall or someplace to let you choose your own stuff with your allowance. But this will get you through till then. Don’t take the tags off till you’ve tried them on, please. I want to be sure they fit.”

“A, uh…allowance?”

“Which you’ll earn with chores you’ll be doing around the house.”

Evan nodded, but he laughed awkwardly. “Okay, but you don’t pay me for that.”

“Not much,” Sam said with a wink. “We’re going to give you two hundred dollars to shop with next weekend. After that, you’ll earn twenty-five a week to do with what you want.”  

“That’s a hundred dollars a month.”

“And he can do math. Good sign. We’ll talk about what you’re expected to do over lunch. Cas is cooking now. There will be one night a week you’re in charge of dinner for everyone. You’ll do your own laundry on your day. You’ll clean your bathroom once a week, since you’re the only one using it. That sort of thing. But we’ll talk about it. Come on down. I’ll introduce you to the dogs.”

Two years later, he was getting out of Castiel’s car, and walking into the deli they liked to talk about his first tattoo. It was surreal. He grinned at his guardian as they received their brunch and sat at a table near the windows. “You know I kept a can of soup in my backpack for almost six months when I first got here?”

Castiel looked at him strangely. Then he took a breath. “In case you needed to run and wanted to eat that night.”

“If you can’t find a way to eat regularly within a day, you’re screwed. So I figured one meal was enough to get me to my next one.”

“Six months, huh?”

“To the day,” he confirmed. “It was like an anniversary or something, when I took it out. I figured if you guys were stupid enough to have kept me around that long, you probably weren’t going to send me packing without notice, and I probably wouldn’t need to take off without notice.”

Castiel nodded. “Probably not.”

“My backpack was lighter.”

He laughed. “I guess so. I’m glad you decided to trust us.”

Evan shrugged. “It’s a pretty sweet deal for me. Most kids don’t have such a good arrangement.”

“No. I guess they don’t. But I’m glad you think so.”

“When, um…when did you decide to keep me?”

There came a slight frown from Castiel. “When we met you.”

The young man tried to laugh, but it was more of a huff. “Okay, but really. When did you know I was going to get to stay till I graduated?”

“When we met you. Evan, I tried to tell you that first day. You probably don’t remember.”

 _Every detail_ , he thought. _I remember every single detail_.

“Sam and I don’t do anything unless we’re going to do it right. We liked you right away.” He chuckled then, and paused to take a bite thoughtfully. Then he looked up at Evan again. “Okay, you want to know the exact moment I knew you were my kid? Not just giving you a place to land, but honestly one of us?”

“When?” he asked softly.

 Castiel was laughing now. It always made Evan’s heart swell when Castiel was happy. He was one of those people who made other people feel incredible for making him laugh. “You don’t remember, I guess, but you tried to explain the foster system to me that first day. You didn’t know I was a foster, and you didn’t know that by the time we took you, we had done an obsessive amount of research about everything related to the system, and knew every judge, attorney and social worker in the county. So you were like, ‘It’s cool, Cas, I can tell you’re an idiot, and I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but let me tell you how the world really works.’”

Evan was blushing now, and he bit into his sandwich as though it could cover it up.

“And then you told me that the word ‘permanent’ always came with the qualifier ‘more.’ You used the word _qualifier_ in your explanation of the phrase ‘more permanent.’ I’ll never forget that.”

“More permanent. Jesus, Cas. There’s no phrase out there worse than that. That’s right up there with ‘beds are in high demand.’ I waited to hear that one for two years too.”

Castiel’s smile faded, and he looked at Evan hard. “Ev, did you ever resent that Sam and I didn’t adopt you?”

He shrugged. “Resent? No. Made me wonder sometimes. I mean, not so much me, but Jay and Day; they’ve been with you forever. It never mattered to me. I don’t need you to slap your last name on me to make me part of your family. Which one would you even use, anyway?”

“Winchester,” he said without hesitation.

Evan stared at him. “Why?”

The man who had been his legal guardian until this morning, and who would always be his family, cleared his throat before speaking again. “Novak doesn’t mean anything. I kept it because it’s me. It’s my professional name. It’s how people know me. It’s how I know me. But it isn’t a family name. It’s just what was written on some paper somewhere when I entered the system. Winchester is a family name. And we could have given it to you.”

“I’m kind of glad you didn’t,” he said quietly.

“Too hard to spell?” Castiel teased.

It made him snort. “Yeah. No, I mean, adoption is something you’re told you want. Since I was four. Adoption, adoption. But it’s a legal term, isn’t it? I mean, nothing really changes.”

Castiel nodded. “That’s not entirely true. I mean, you could have been adopted out from under us. The others too.”

He waved that away. “Sam would never let that happen.”

“No. He wouldn’t. It’s a part of each of your contracts. If someone tries to adopt you, we are offered the chance to do so first. And we would have. You know that. If it came down to that choice, we would have made you a Winchester. But other than that? No. Nothing would have changed. In this family, foster doesn’t mean temporary.”

“So…why then?”

“There are benefits to being in the foster care system. Sam and I spent weeks making that decision after accepting Jada and Damon. It came down to a list of pros and cons, with everything from state benefits to healthcare to college scholarship advantages weighed both ways. We wanted to be sure we were doing what was best for each of you kids and all of us as a family, instead of what was convenient or what we may have wanted on an emotional level. For some situations, some families, adoption is best. We didn’t think it was for us.”

Evan watched him eat for a moment, absorbing this information. “That’s you and Sam,” he murmured eventually. “You two are crazy smart. So even if you wanted to adopt us, you didn’t because we would lose more benefits than we’d gain.”

“That’s the idea. But now that we’re…here…do you wish we had gone the other way?”

“Man, I wouldn’t change anything. Seriously.” Then he shook his head. “Especially for Tom. He’d lose the therapy and meds and everything else.”

“We would see that he got it.”

“I know you would. But the doctors he sees now, they know him, and he knows them. And I don’t care how much Sam makes consulting, you can’t continue to give us what you do without that help. Not for all four of us.” Then he stopped. “Shit. My benefits cut off today, don’t they?”

Castiel shook his head. “Not all of them. Some will continue till you graduate, some till you’re nineteen, and some even until you’re twenty-one. You’ll continued to be covered under my health plan at the university, for example, as long as you’re in school.” He raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

Evan allowed a small smile. “Yeah, okay. So I’m going to apply to a few places nearby. In the region, I mean. In state.”

The blue eyes shone, and he could tell Castiel was trying not to seem excited by this news. “Really? A four-year school?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Sam and I talked this morning, before he went for his run. He said he thought it might not be too late for some schools. And he said if I stayed in state, he’d pay for room and board and help me get grants and loans for tuition. And if I go to his school or yours, he says he thinks I can get tuition covered.”

“One of the last remaining benefits of being a professor,” he breathed. “Evan, I’m so glad you’re even thinking of it. Seriously. I’m really proud of you.”

“Good day, then, huh?” he said shyly, wrapping up the last of his brunch. “Anyway, let’s talk ink.”

Castiel was beaming, but he moved to his tablet to pull up Evan’s design. They modified and adjusted, tweaked and shifted, until Evan saw perfection.

He sighed. “You think this guy can do that?”

“I know he can. Cole’s the best there is. You like my wings, don’t you?”

“He did those?” He nodded to himself. “Then this should be nothing for him. It’s simple. It’s just that I want it exactly like that.”

“Then let’s do it.”

***


	7. Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damon remembers what it was like when the other boys arrived in his home.

Damon threw his bag into his desk and himself onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling for about a minute before his eyes began to slip closed without his consent. It had been a good morning, but his body was reminding him that it was displeased with his decision to jog with Sam instead of sleeping in. Soccer or no soccer, he was not a morning person. Maybe he could convince Sam to jog at night sometimes. He wondered briefly if he should ask Tom or Evan to get off their asses and go with him, but he dismissed that quickly. Evan was pretty athletic and would make him feel slow, and he and Tom would get too competitive. Jada would just laugh at him for suggesting it. Castiel wouldn't wait for him when he got tired like Sam did. And he knew he wasn't disciplined enough to go alone.

Very slowly, Damon became aware of a sound coming from the floor above him. There were so many people in the house, he rarely paid any attention to noises, but this one pricked at his brain as out of place. He could not put his finger on why, so he did his best to ignore it.

There was a Spanish project due Monday, and he was excited about it. He would never say so in front of Tom, who was in the same class but probably had not even begun his. But he had used his love for music to create a video to present to the class. Damon hated giving oral reports, hated performing before an audience at all, which was why he had never really considered a career in music. But video was different. Sam had taught him how to edit and use graphic effects, and he had used his recording program to make an awesome presentation. The assignment had been to imagine they were teaching Spanish to third graders, to come up with a fun way for little kids to learn to conjugate regular verbs.

Damon had never been a great student, but projects like this, where he could be creative, interested him. Tom would call him a nerd, but Jada said Tom could shove it when he called her that, and Evan always accepted it as a fact he wasn't bothered by. Sam and Jada were obvious nerds. Like, obnoxious nerds. But Castiel and Evan were smart too, and they never cared what anybody thought of them.

Why was that noise odd?

He always thought it was interesting the way the family tended to pair off sometimes. Jada loved Castiel but she looked up to Sam in a way Damon had never seen her look up to anyone before. And then there was Evan, who was like Castiel's own for-real kid.

Damon would not have said it on punishment of death, but he had been resentful when Tom had shown up, and devastated when Evan had. He had gotten past it, of course. Tom was his best friend now, and regardless of what the kid said, Tom worshipped Evan. So the three of them had become brothers, of a sort, and certainly friends. But at first, Damon could have tossed each of them out the window if Sam ever took his eyes off Tom long enough and if Evan weren't so freakishly large.

Jada had scolded him for it. "They're kids, same as us. Like Cas says, they just need a place to land."

"Sick of hearing what Cas says about anything."

She had shoved him off her bed onto the floor. "You're being a child."

"And you're being uppity."

A dark glare flashed in her eyes. "Don't you ever say that to me again."

He glowered at the floor.

"Day?"

"Okay! God, Jada!"

She had softened a bit and sighed. "Day, Cas isn't going to forget you just because Evan's here."

"You wanna tell me you didn't care when Sam started hanging with Tom all the damn time?"

"No. Because I'm almost sixteen years old and I don't need Sam to hold my hand all the time. Move. You're in my light."

He had begun wandering the room without noticing. "Sorry," he muttered.

"You're sulking."

"So? Tom wasn't so bad. But Evan is such a sarcastic..."

"That's all you've got. He's sarcastic. That, and Cas likes his company. You're sulking because you don't have Cas all to yourself and you need to grow up. Evan's a good guy. He's a lot like Cas, actually."

Damon picked at the things on her dresser at random. "Yeah. Even kind of looks like him, doesn't he?"

He could feel Jada's eyes on him. "I guess."

"Just being white makes him look more like their kid than us."

"Day?" Finally, Jada's hands were on his arms and she turned him to face her. He knew he was sulking. Of course he was sulking. Castiel and Sam were his dads, for god's sake. And dads wanted their kids to look like they were actually their kids. So of course they had gone to find Tom and Evan. The only surprise was that they had kept Damon at all. Probably because of Jada. Sam and Castiel were pretty attached to her. But Damon was just another kid to keep track of. Now that they had two other boys, two that looked a lot more like they belonged, what was the point of having Damon?

Jada's voice reached him through a thick fog of misery. "Day, they love us. Okay? You know that. That's not ever going to change. Not ever. And they are helping other kids because they're so happy with us. If they didn't like raising us, do you think they'd go back for more pain in the ass kids just like us?"

Damon blinked several times, and smiled. "Damn straight," he agreed with a sniff.

"Day, Evan's gonna need some of their attention for a while, just like we did. And Tom's always going to need a little more of their time. But you and I will always be their first kids. They aren't going to forget they love us."

"Were you, like, born thirty years old?"

Jada threw her elbow into his stomach, and he coughed his laugh out. It helped him swallow tears he would never show anyone, not even Jada.

Tom had become his best friend within a few days of Damon getting over himself, as Jada put it. It took weeks for Damon to stop being territorial, but as soon as he did, Tom was more than happy to have his company. He had spent far less time in foster care than the rest of them. Evan had been there since he was four, and Jada and Damon since he was six and she was almost eight. But Tom had been taken from his father only a year before finding his way to their home.

He had badly needed a friend, and when Damon realized that, he stopped seeing him as competition, and they had bonded over video games and trashing one another's music. They had switched Tom into a whole new school district, so Damon had shown him the ropes, and had his buddies at school take him in. The transition had gone smoothly.

Damon had never been so proud in his life as when Castiel had taken him aside one evening to tell him how grateful he and Sam were that Damon and his friends had looked after Tom. Apparently Tom had said something to his therapist about feeling like he fit in someplace for the first time in his life, mostly because of Damon making it clear at school from day one that they might not look alike, but they were brothers, and that was that.

Then Evan had come along, looking like the real son, and Tom had Damon, his friend and brother, but now he had his idol too.

But it was two years later. Evan had not cared much what Damon thought, and that made it pointless to hate him. Then Evan had clocked a guy for backing Jada into a corner at a party, and Damon couldn't even dislike him.

And now Evan was off with Castiel getting his tattoo, and Damon couldn't wait to see it.

Damon frowned severely. His eyes snapped open. "Evan is out with Cas," he repeated aloud.

So why could he hear the shower running in the bathroom upstairs? The one only Evan used?

A strange feeling came over him then, beginning from his deepest layer, extending out till his skin crawled, ending in a shiver. He felt himself lift from the bed as if something were pulling him, and then he was running, taking the stairs as fast as he could, because _something was very, very wrong_. He didn't know what. But he was sure of it.

He threw open the bedroom door, and threw himself at the locked bathroom door so hard, it splintered at the bolt, allowing his entrance.

And there he was.

"Sam!" he screamed as he fell to his knees. "Sam!"

There was just a beat before he heard Sam and the dogs pounding up the stairs.

"Jesus, Sam! It's Tom! Up here! Sam!"

***

Tom could hear screaming from where he lay on the floor, and he wanted to tell Evan everything was all right, that he was just fine. But he could not open his eyes, and could not move his hands, not even when he felt strong arms lifting him. _Sam_ , he thought dizzily. _Everything is okay, Sam. Tell Evan it's all fine..._


	8. Phones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calls go out.

Dean was laughing when he and the boys tripped into the house. When he saw Lisa and Jada's faces, however, he stopped cold. The boys raced off to Tristan's room without noticing, but Dean could feel every muscle in his body tense.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Jada was staring at her phone but Lisa stood up. "Dean," she whispered. "There's been an accident."

His lungs collapsed and his throat was closing. "Sam?" He could not breathe. "Is it Sam?" It was every nightmare he had suffered until the birth of his own son, and every second one after that. "Is it Sam? Is he...?"

Lisa shook her head. "No, Dean."

But before his brain could process it, Jada spoke, as if to herself. "It's Tom."

***

Evan grimaced as he pulled his shirt sleeve up again. But he was grinning through it. "I'm never going to stop looking at it, am I?"

Castiel exchanged a smile with Cole. "Not for a long time," he confirmed.

"Glad you like it, kid. You're going to come back in two weeks for me to polish it up; don't let it get sun and keep it clean till then. Hell, Castiel knows. He'll tell you what to do."

"Thank you, Mr. Trenton," he said quietly.

Cole chuckled. "You got your first ink, kid. You're one of us now. Call me Cole, and I'll stop calling you kid."

They both laughed.

Castiel felt his phone buzz in his pocket. "It's Sam. You two talk maintenance. I'll be right back."

He walked out of the studio, more to give Evan space than for privacy. He had already paid for Cole's work, the birthday gift from him and Sam. Now it was just talk.

"Hello, Sam," he said softly.

"Cas, get Evan finished up. You need to get to Memorial. Now."

Castiel felt like his heart had leapt up to his throat. "Why? What's wrong?"

"It's Tom, Cas. He's really sick. I'll tell you everything when you get here. He should be okay but...Cas, we need you."

"We're on our way. Text me where to find you."

"I will. Be careful, but please hurry."

***


	9. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean comforts Sammy, and Evan frets for Tommy.

Sam stared down at his hands between his knees. He had been asked to stop pacing, and it was all he could do to not leap up again. When Dean had arrived, Jada had taken Damon aside to hear the story, and Sam had been grateful the two of them were there for one another, because he needed his brother.

"Sammy," Dean said softly. "It's all right. They said he would be all right."

"They said they didn't know," he snapped back.

"He's going to be fine. I wouldn't say it if I didn't believe it."

Sam concentrated on breathing as well as he could. "I wish I could see him. What the hell is taking Cas so long?"

"He was all the way on the other side of the city, Sam, you know that. Even I couldn't get here this fast. He's coming. You know he'd fly if he could."

"I know."

"How much did you tell him?"

"Told him Tom was real sick but should be okay. I didn't want him killing himself or somebody else to get here. Evan too."

Dean nodded his approval. "It's true though. He's just sick, and he's going to be okay."

"We don't know that," he said again, but this time there was no heat to it. "God, Dean," he whispered hoarsely. "What if he isn't?"

"Sammy, don't. He will be. And it was an accident. You said you don't think he did it on purpose."

"I don't, but we won't know till he wakes up." He allowed a single sob to shake him. "If he wakes up."

The sob had sent a bolt of electricity through Dean, and he could feel his big brother's arms around him then. He let the tears come. He had held them in because of Damon, but now the boy was with his sister, and Sam couldn't do it anymore.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," Dean whispered. "I can't even tell you how sorry."

He clutched at his brother desperately. "I was there! I was right downstairs, Dean! Christ, Dean, I was right there!"

Dean's voice was getting gruffer, a sure sign that he was holding his own emotion in, just as Sam had done for Damon. "Wasn't anything you could have done, man. I promise you. Okay? Tom didn't want you to know. It's why he went to Evan's room. He didn't give you the chance."

"He's my kid, Dean!" he screamed then.

"Where is he? Where's Tommy?"

Sam gasped, and choked on tears. "Evan. Christ, it's Evan."

Dean stood to intercept Evan and Castiel as they burst into the small waiting room. The area was empty except for them, for which Sam was grateful, especially now that the tiny space was being crammed with four large, frantic men.

"Where's Tommy?" Evan demanded again.

Dean grabbed the young man's arm, and Sam thought for a moment that Evan might take a swing at him. But he simply glared at the obstacle.

"Evan, wait. We can't see him right now. He's with the doctors."

"He ain't sick!" Evan cried out angrily. "I talked to him all morning! High anxiety maybe, but he wasn't sick!" His deep voice was becoming a bit shrill as he neglected to catch his breath.

Castiel knelt beside Sam and looked up at him. "Can you tell me what happened, pup?" He said it with such gentle determination and concern that Sam burst into tears again. "Sam?"

It was Dean who spoke. "Listen, guys. Tom took too much of his medicine, and something extra that they're trying to figure out. Damon found him on the floor in the bathroom. I guess the shower was on, but he hadn't even gotten out of all his clothes before he passed out. Day and Sam got him to the car and drove him to the ER. He's had his stomach pumped, but he's not...he's not quite responding like they hoped. Not yet. But he will."

Sam could feel Castiel's heart pounding, even though they were barely touching.

Evan made a noise that sounded like he had been punched in the gut.

Dean grabbed him again, and this time Evan let him. "Come on. Come here, Ev. Sit here with me."

"I want to see him," he murmured, stunned.

"We can't," Sam managed. "Not yet."

Castiel took a deep breath, then another. Then he stood. "Dean, can I talk to you?"

"'Course, man."

He looked back at Sam. "Where...?"

"They're in the main waiting room. Both of them. Damon found him, Cas."

He closed his eyes briefly. "I know. But Jada will take care of him for now. If they need us, they know where we are?"

Sam nodded mutely.

"Okay. Dean?"

Sam watched as Castiel squeezed Evan's hand before walking into the hallway with Dean.

Evan stared numbly. "How is he so calm?"

His guardian gave a small smile. "He isn't. It's just how Cas handles emergencies. He deals with details. I guess it keeps him from having to see...the bigger picture."

"Sam? Is Tom dying?"

Fear gripped his throat with icy fingers, but he forced himself to speak through it. "I don't know, Ev."

"Did he...Was he trying to...Do you think he wanted to..."

"I don't know," he breathed. "I don't really think so. I think he probably had an episode and figured his meds weren't strong enough, so he took too much."

"Stupid," Evan hissed. "God, that kid is so damn..." But he could not even finish.

"He took something else too. We don't know what yet."

"The little ass! I thought I'd found all his hiding places. God, what did he take? It was always just joints and cigarettes. That couldn't do something like this, could it?"

"No. I don't think so. Ev, Tom took most of his supply, and..."

Evan's stare turned toward him at the hesitation. "Sam? Where did he do this?"

Sam licked his lips and sighed miserably.

"Sam? Sam, where did he do this?"

"He was in your room, Ev."

Evan's chest was heaving and his broad shoulders curled forward. "Oh my god."

"Ev-"

"He took my painkillers, didn't he? Sam, did he take my painkillers?"

He swallowed hard. "I think so. I have the bottle, gave it to the doctors. We won't know till the labs-"

"How many were in there?"

"Evan-"

The young man rose to his feet slowly. "How many?"

"Two."

Evan dropped like dead weight back onto the chair.

"Evan?"

"Those aren't...Sam, I had nine left. I haven't needed them in so long...I only take half a pill at a time, when my back won't... He took seven?"

Sam felt his chest tightening badly. "Evan," he breathed.

"So I screw up my back playing lacrosse a year ago, and Tommy's going to die because I need something to let me sleep once in a while? How the hell is that okay? I lock those pills up every damn time, every time, Sam! You told me how important that was, and I-" Evan sucked in his breath, then let it all out at once. "And I didn't. My tat. I-I knew I was going to have to hold a position for a long time, that my back might...I got them out to take with me, and I forgot all about them. Jesus Christ. Sam, I...Jesus, did I hurt Tommy? Goddammit, did I kill Tommy?"

God, he wanted Castiel and Dean back. "No. Evan, no. Stop. Right now, you gotta stop. Tom wasn't thinking straight and he was having an episode. He didn't know what he was doing."

Evan's eyes were wild, but his voice was soft. "No, but I did. I knew how important it was to keep that stuff locked up. You sat and told me about how important that was. Said you knew I could handle that, so you gave me that lockbox and told me never to tell Tom or the others what was in there. He caught me taking them that time, and you said that was okay, as long as I always remembered to lock it. And then I went and left them sitting right out on the counter. Like a bunch of freaking candy. If Tommy dies, I killed him. Sam, stop. I don't care what you say. I might have killed my brother today because I was too caught up in my own head to pay attention. I may have killed my little brother. Don't try to make that better."

With that, Evan fled the small room, back through the doors whence he had come, and Sam was left trembling and weeping in his wake.

***


	10. Saturday becomes Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a waiting game now.

Hester and Tessa were conferring at the other end of the room, and Sheriff Mills was listening intently, nodding at some points, smiling wearily at others.

Castiel watched them from where he sat with Jada and Damon. Kevin wandered over with coffees. "Thank you," he murmured.

"Figured you'd be sick of the stuff here by now." Kevin sighed. "Come on, guys."

Jada and Damon stood like zombies and shuffled toward the exit.

"Thank you again for getting them home, Kev," Castiel said quietly. "Charlie and Jo should be there by the time you arrive. They'll take over from there."

Kevin nodded. "Text me if I can do anything else. And, hey, Tess and Jody, they're going to get the investigation out of the way as soon as they can. Everybody knows...We all know you guys..."

He took a breath. "Thank you, Kevin. I hope so."

The young man touched his arm somewhat awkwardly, and followed after Jada and Damon, raising a hand to his wife on his way out. Tessa smiled thinly.

Castiel sighed, then startled as Dean dropped into the chair beside him.

"Sorry," he muttered, dragging a hand across his face.

"He any better?"

"Stopped throwing up. That's something. Got him a toothbrush from one of the nurses' stations."

"He say anything?"

Dean cringed. "About how he thinks he may have killed his little brother? Yeah. God, I can't even..."

Castiel smiled hollowly, staring out at nothing. "A year ago, the biggest problem was whether to let Jada get her hair done in microbraids. We didn't even know what that meant, had to look it up online." He gave a huffed laugh. "Sam said she looked really professional with them. All I could think was she looked like a woman instead of my girl."

"She's beautiful, Cas."

He liked the way Dean let him talk on the surface, without pushing too deep. Dean, of all people, knew how hard talking was sometimes. "Yeah. She really is. At some point, she stopped being my girl. I don't know when that happened. She's the strongest one, Dean. She looks forward, like Sam does, when the rest of us keep looking back. She sat there with Damon, made him do his homework in the waiting room, because..." He laughed again, but tears were spilling out now. "Because she said that doing his homework wasn't going to help or hurt anything today, but not doing his homework would only make Monday a little bit worse."

Dean smiled. "Wish I had somebody to tell me crap like that as a kid."

"Right? She asked the nurse to explain the recovery for Tom, what he would need, what to expect, and when the nurse tried to gently tell her they don't know yet if there's going to be a recovery, she just shook her head and said, well, it isn't very smart to not be prepared for the best as well as the worst. What teenager talks like that? What kid has that much perspective? That's not my girl anymore." The tears were flowing now, but he was too exhausted to care. "She's this incredible woman I got to watch grow up, and I don't know how it happened."

"She's still your girl, Cas."

He shook his head with a smile. "No. And that's all right. A year ago, she walked into the house with a new hair style, short and smart and pretty, and I never saw that little girl again. And that's okay, because what an incredible woman she's becoming."

They sat in silence for a moment before Dean spoke again. "Cas, drink your coffee, man."

He moved with a numbness that frightened him a little. He hated this waiting. He had spent hours dealing with details, contacting Tom's social worker Hester, seeing that Jada and Damon ate dinner, calling Missouri about next week's conference, settling insurance claim forms, getting in touch with Tom's doctors through their weekend monitoring services, making Sam eat, calling Charlie to arrange for her to stay the night with Jada and Damon, texting Andy to have him take care of the dogs, leaving a message on Sam's department chair's voicemail to indicate that Sam would not be holding classes on Monday for his undergraduates, getting ahold of Jada's church minister to let him know so he could check on her and her brother.

Now there was nothing. Nothing but sitting and waiting and feeling the hard knot in his stomach grow.

"I need to check on Evan. You all right?"

Castiel smiled tightly. "I'm grateful you're here, Dean. He won't speak to me or Sam. Not even Jada."

"I know. I'm the only big brother he knows," the man added.

He nodded, and watched his friend head back toward the hallway through the double doors. Then he stood too, wiping the last of his tears on the back of his thumb. He approached the three women across the room.

"Dr. Novak," Tessa said, as though she and Jody Mills had not both seen him slightly inebriated less than twenty-four hours ago.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sheriff Mills thinks we've done all we can do for now. We will send her office copies of every report, including the psychological evaluation and interview which will be conducted as soon as Tom wakes up and we're given the okay from his doctors."

He nodded tiredly. "Anything else you need from me, Sheriff?"

Jody smiled kindly. "No, Cas. Look, we all know you and Sam. This is all just a formality. You know that, right? Anytime there's an accident, we gotta investigate. We know you and Sam are doing everything you should be doing to keep these kids safe. Accidents happen. Mistakes happen. You can do everything right and sometimes they still happen."

"Of course. You know you have complete access to the house and cars, whatever you need. Please just...please take what Evan told you with...He's convinced it's his fault. He has always been diligent about locking up those meds in the past. Today's his damn birthday. He was distracted, and none of us would have guessed Tom would go up there while we were out."

Hester spoke up finally. "Dr. Novak, you and Dr. Winchester are meticulous. We know that. I'll be the first to admit I wasn't sure about you when we first met."

Castiel laughed quietly. "You didn't exactly see me at my best when you took over Tom's case from Mr. Inias and surprised us with an inspection." He remembered answering the door, expecting to find his husband on the other side of it, home from four days in Wichita for a client, and he allowed Miranda to dive onto the woman on the porch, slamming her onto the ground and tossing her papers and bag everywhere. At her demand to know what the hell was that, he had stammered at her that it was rude, for one thing, and dropped to help her up, just in time for Tom to come flying from the house, yelling for Sam to tell Castiel to stop taking his damn cigarette money. It had not been the best introduction to a new social worker.

"But I've seen you since then, and you're a fantastic guardian. The sheriff is right. When kids want something, they get it somehow. And when they think they need it, they aren't going to let you know they're looking for it. I'd like to say this is the first time I've seen this, but we both know that isn't true."

Castiel swallowed hard. "You think he did this...on purpose."

Hester shrugged sadly. "We won't know until he wakes."

"Cas?"

He turned, heart pounding, to find that the gruff hiss came from Dean. "Excuse me," he breathed, and hurried to the hall. "Dean?" For a fraction of a second before Dean spoke, Castiel saw his own reflection in the doors' windows. It struck him how old he looked. A man of thirty-four was looking into a surface which reflected a man of at least ten years past that.

"Look. Evan is all right, but I don't want to leave him alone long. But I really..."

"You want me to check on Sam."

Dean shrugged awkwardly. "I'm a big brother too, okay?"

Castiel smiled. "Yes. Thank you for helping with Evan. I'll see if Sam will talk with me."

There was a grateful touch of Dean's hand on Castiel's arm. "I know he's acting...But he appreciates you being there. Even if he..."

"I know." He returned the arm squeeze and continued down the hall to where Sam sat in a room beside a bed by himself. He paused briefly before going in.

Sam's head was in his hands, elbows on his knees, but he was speaking through his fingers. "And it never made any difference to me. I don't know if I ever told you that. I'll make sure you know when you wake up. I hope you know already."

He leaned on the door and sighed. What confessions was Sam indulging in? What promises was he tormenting himself with?

Sam's voice was deeper than Castiel could remember ever hearing it. "Tom, what he did to you...Castiel would kill him if he ever met your father."

No doubt.

"But that's far too good for that man. Evan blames himself for what happened today, and you know I can't help feeling that too, that I screwed up, let you down. But that man had the privilege to be your father, to know you your whole life, and he just used that time to make you afraid. There's nothing in the world that makes me angrier than that. That, I won't tell you when you wake up."

Castiel ran a shaky hand through his hair. It was rare to hear anything but gentle kindness or intelligent, patient determination in his husband's voice. But when talking about Tom's father, there was a loathing that caused Castiel to flinch inside.

"You're my son, Tom. We don't say that. Jada's the only one who uses those words. The rest of us are so careful not to. But you boys are my sons, and she is my daughter. I can't tell you what it will do to me if I find out this wasn't an accident. Tom, please wake up and tell me this was an accident. I don't know what I will do if you don't. Please. God, if I've ever done a single good thing in my life, if I've ever deserved a single good thing...I need this to be okay. A horrible accident we learn from and walk away from. I don't know if I can handle the alternative."

Castiel put his hand on Sam's shoulder. The man's muscles tensed, then dropped again.

"Cas."

"We're going to make it through this, Sam. No matter what happens next."

Sam did not look up at him. "Evan's calling him Tommy," he rasped out, seemingly at random.

"I noticed."

"Dean's the only one who gets to call me Sammy."

His husband smiled with a tremble. "I've noticed that too."

"Cas, if he dies, I just don't know...I don't know what I'll do."

"You'll hold together because we have three more who need us. And that's what I'll do, for the same reason. And we'll hold together for one another too."

Sam shook his head. "Not like this," he breathed. "I can't...Not like this."

"It was an accident, Sam."

"We don't know that."

He pulled a chair to sit beside the large man. "Yeah we do," he sighed. "Because nobody knows that kid like you do. And you don't believe it."

"Maybe I'm wrong."

"You're not. Unless I hear it from Tom's own lips, I won't ever believe anything else. He was in an episode. He was afraid and disoriented. He tried taking his meds and they didn't seem to be working, so he took more. And he went upstairs to find Evan, but he found Evan's pills instead. He was afraid and he was hurting, so he took something that said 'for pain relief, as needed.' And he was already a mess, so he took too many. It was all a nasty, terrible mistake."

"I was right downstairs, Cas."

"Yeah. But he wanted Evan, so he went upstairs instead. One day in a whole year Evan leaves those damn meds out, and he happened to find them. It was a vicious coincidence, but that's all it was."

Sam was quiet then, leaning against his husband and letting a tired whimper escape his throat. "If I weren't so exhausted, I'd be trying to kill that man."

Castiel did not have to ask who that man was. "He's serving his time."

"You think that's enough?"

"I think taking care of Tom is more important than giving his father what he deserves. What his father deserves is to be forgotten, utterly, wiped off the planet completely, as if he had never been here. So that's what I intend to do."

There was quiet for a long time.

Then Castiel turned to kiss Sam's head on his shoulder. "I didn't know if you would want me to be here."

"I'm sorry for snapping at you before. I'm just so angry and tired, and I'm really, really scared, Cas."

"I know, pup. I am too."

He met Castiel's eyes for the first time. "How are the kids?"

"Jada is amazing. Damon is...well, he's better with her. I had Kevin Tran drive them home, and Charlie and Jo are there to spend the night."

"We have good friends."

"Family too," he added. "Dean's been coaching Evan through this whole thing, for hours."

Sam reached to hold Castiel's hand as though it took the last of his strength to do it. "He still won't talk to you?"

"No. Just keeps shaking his head at me. Last sentence he got out was something about not being able to look at me when he may have killed my kid. I tried to...He just shoved me away, and Dean told me I should go."

"Big brothers are for protecting, not for hurting."

Castiel frowned deeply. "Sam, you don't blame Evan, do you?"

There was a silence, during which he could feel his blood running cold inside him, could feel his heart pounding. Because that was something he could not handle right now. That was something that could tear apart two men who had loved one another seamlessly through every hardship and trial of their lives. Castiel had heard what it did to a marriage, the loss of a child.

"No," Sam answered finally, and it was as though he had given Castiel permission to breathe again. "No, I blame me. Evan did something he shouldn't have done, but that only made it worse. I obviously neglected to do something I needed to do. That's inexcusable. And it may have lost me my son."

Castiel wrapped his arms around his husband, grateful and wounded all at once by Sam's words. They sat there that way for an eternity, just listening to the soft sounds of monitors in the silence, listening to the soft sounds of fear and guilt in their own minds.

***

It was eleven o'clock the next morning when Tom opened his eyes. He looked around the room, then closed them again.

***

At three o'clock Sunday afternoon, Tom shouted out in his sleep, and nurses had rushed in, pushing Castiel and Sam from the room. A few moments later, a doctor arrived to check on him. Twenty minutes passed, then all was silent again.

***

Jo arrived with dinner and coffee at five, and said that Jada had driven herself and her brother to the night service at the church, mostly because the minister had called her to encourage her. Charlie had gone too. Andy had come over again to exercise the dogs, and had expressed that, as Sam's former assistant, he would be happy to grade some of his students' essays and other assignments to take some burden off. Sam appreciated this, and texted Andy so, letting him know where to find everything. Andy knew what he expected from his students.

***

At six thirty, Dean took Evan by force to go get a shower and a meal. He took him to his own home for it, and checked on Lisa, Tristan and Ben. He managed to get Evan to sleep on the couch for a short time.

***

Jada called Sam at seven. Sam let her know there was nothing much else to report, and asked her how Damon was. The boy had tried to play a game he and Tom enjoyed, but he had ended up just staring at it until Jada had made him go to bed early.

***

Dean and Evan returned at eight o'clock, and the young man surrendered to a hug from Castiel. Evan held him desperately, chanting apologies into his guardian's shoulder. It broke Dean's heart to watch it.

***

At 9:42pm on Sunday, Sam heard a sigh and lifted his head to see Tom watching him.

He stood slowly, cautiously. "Tom?" he said through a hoarse voice. "It's Sam."

"You're not going to hurt me," Tom whispered.

Sam burst into tears.


	11. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets the full, confusing story.

“Mira, get off me!” Tom rasped hoarsely.

Since the boy did not seem to mean it, neither the dog nor Sam took him seriously. “Sit and relax. I’m going to get you some soup.”

“You’re not going to try to feed it to me, are you?”

Sam smiled to himself as he headed to the kitchen. Tom was uncomfortable with the extra attention he was getting, but he was not altogether unhappy about it. “Just sit and relax,” he called back. Sam’s phone was buzzing in his pocket, and he did not even need to look at it to know who was calling. Evan was supposed to be in physics right now, but instead, he was trying to check up on Tom. “Your brother is about to call you,” he said. “Please tell him to go back to class.”

“Who, Day?”

“No. The one who has called me fourteen times already today.”

“He has not.”

“You’re right. Eight of those were texts.”

He could hear Tom snicker as his own phone rang. Sam listened in as he prepared soup for the boy.

“Hey, jerk. What’re you bothering me for?” Tom coughed out a laugh. “What do you think? Sam’s hovering over me like a freaking mother hen…You going to help me sneak out of the house to get some air later?…You’re full of crap.” He paused to clear his throat twice. “Yes, I’m drinking water. Get off my ass…Like I could even get a smoke in while Sam’s my enormous shadow. He wants you to go to class, by the way…I won’t tell him you said that.”

Sam could imagine what Evan’s response had been. He waited for the soup to heat, and texted his husband to let him know they had arrived back home. As he expected, there was an immediate response.

“How’s Tom?”

“Jesus, Ev, would you relax? I told you a hundred times. I’m fine. Dean would say I was out of my gourd for a minute, and I did something stupid. Would you let it…No, I’m not.”

“He’s all right,” Sam tapped out. “Talking to Evan on the phone.”

“I’ve had fifty doctors in the past three days, dumbass. Sam would know if I were trying to off myself. Just go back to class, will you? I don’t want to talk about…”

“Shouldn’t Evan be in class?”

“You gonna bring that game home I wanted? If you’re going to play obnoxious big brother, you better come through.”

“Yes. You should text him to get back to class. I tried already. And Tom is milking Evan’s guilt.”

A gruff laugh floated through the room, and Sam sighed as he listened to it. He had been so afraid, so horribly afraid, that he would never hear that laugh again. “All right, jackass. I’m going to watch TV while you’re in physics. I’ll be crying a little tear for you.”

“Tell him to knock it off before Evan’s had enough and skips the rest of his classes to kick his ass.”

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks, man…I’m really fine. I promise…Yeah, I would tell you.”

“I don’t think there’s much danger of that.”

“I hear you.” It was Tom’s signature sign-off, at the end of every call. As Sam approached with a thermos of soup, he rolled his eyes. “Really? I can’t handle a bowl?”

His guardian looked at him kindly, but did not answer. Tom’s hands were still shaking, and they both knew it.

“Whatever. Thanks.”

“I want to talk to you.”

Tom’s eyes closed briefly. “Sam, I really don’t want to.”

“I know you don’t. But we need to. Drink the soup while we talk, but we’re going to talk.”

 The boy settled back in the couch and sighed. “Okay, but if Evan asks, I watched _Die Hard_ and took a nap.”

“Noted.” Sam sat on the coffee table in front of him. “Tom, I know you’ve told the doctors. But I want you to tell me what you remember.”

He shrugged miserably. “Sam, man, I don’t. Not really. I’m so sorry about the whole thing. But I really don’t remember much at all.”

The man licked his lips quietly. “Tom, can you think of what might have brought on the episode in the first place?” He could tell from Tom’s face that his silence was not due to an inability to remember but hesitation to confess. “Whatever it was, we can figure it out, okay? But if you know, I need to know too. If something is triggering these things, we can’t ignore that.”

His eyes lowered to his soup, and his lips were trembling when he spoke again. “Sometimes it just happens.”

“It didn’t just happen this time, Tom.”

“No,” he admitted quietly. “It didn’t. Look,” he continued after a short pause, “you promise me, you swear you’ll never tell the others, and I’ll tell you how it started. I will never trust you again if you tell.”

Sam sat back. “All right,” he agreed. “You know you can trust me.”

Tom’s breath became shallow, and they waited for several minutes in quiet before he spoke. When he did, it was to repeat his stability words. “I’m Tom. You’re Sam.”

“I’m Sam. You’re Tom. Am I going to hurt you?”

“No. I’m Tom. You’re Sam. You’re not going to hurt me.” He closed his eyes, squeezed them tight, then opened them again. “You’d never hurt me like he did.”

Sam smiled sadly. “Never.”

He nodded. “Tom,” he whispered to himself. Then he took a deep breath. “It was Evan’s birthday.”

Realization crashed down on Sam then. “Oh, Tom.”

“I can’t…I can’t do this without him. He spent the morning in my room, just talking music and being too nice. It felt like he was saying…goodbye.”

It was Castiel. Tom’s whole episode was exactly the same thing Castiel had gone through, for exactly the same reason. They did not know what family was supposed to be, so they panicked at the possibility of losing contact with those they had come to love and depend upon.

“I can’t do this without him,” he said again. “Sam, I just can’t. I know you’re going to say I got you and Cas, Jay and Day. But it isn’t the same. Not at all. He’s the only one…” Tears slipped past Tom’s lashes. “Jesus, Sam, he’s the only one who ever loved me because he wants to and not because he’s supposed to. The only one who wasn’t assigned to me, who never had any reason to give a damn about me. That’s selfish, right? And stupid? God, I’m so stupid.”

“It isn’t stupid, Tom.”

“Jesus. Dammit, Sam, it felt like he was saying goodbye. He was being too nice, like…Anyway, it was stupid. I kept thinking, you know, if he’s eighteen, that’s it, right? He could jet, and what could we even do about it? But it wasn’t even just that. He’s eighteen. So he isn’t even my brother anymore. Friday was my last day as his brother. He’s just a guy now. He lives here, says he ain’t leaving anytime soon, but he ain’t my brother anymore. Just like…” He began gasping, and Sam quickly took the soup from his hands so he could sit up without spilling it on himself. “Just like the other one. The other one. Evan isn’t my brother just like the other one.”

His heart was breaking in his chest. “Tom? Tom, who am I?” 

“You’re Sam,” he wailed in a hoarse voice. His arms wrapped around himself, and he began to rock agitatedly. “Sam, I can’t! It’s just like the other one! You wouldn’t hurt me, but you hurt the other one!”

Sam drew in his breath quickly. “No, Tom! Tom, wait. Who are we?” 

“Tom! Tom and Dad too! But not me! I got away, but then-“

“Tom! Focus, okay? It’s all right. You’re all right. You’re Tom.”

The boy was beginning to lose his breath entirely. “No. Connor. The other one. Tom was too stupid to get out. Tom was too slow, got caught. He’s stupid. Tom won’t take the pills. Too stupid. I took them for him.”

And that was what Sam needed to know. He was in the territory he needed to be in. “Tom, what were you hoping to do with the pills? Why did you take them?”

“Connor ran. He ran, and got caught.”

“I know he did, Tom. Connor didn’t make it, but you did. They came for your dad, and he can’t hurt you anymore. Connor is gone, but you’re still here. Connor was the one who didn’t make it. Tom made it out. Okay? You’re Tom, and you made it out, and you’re going to be fine. You’re safe now.”

“Tom. And you’re Sam. I’m Tom, you’re Sam. Connor is dead. Dad killed him.”

“Yes, Tom.”

The boy was quiet as he processed this, and Sam could watch him matching his breathing to his guardian’s with determination that made Sam proud of him. It took a few more minutes of breathing before he spoke again. “I’m sorry, Sam. I just get confused sometimes.”

“I know. It’s all right.”

He nodded. “I didn’t mean to do what I did.” Sam waited as he breathed another moment longer. “I was scared. And I couldn’t think right. I took my medicine, and then I took some for Connor too. And I went to find Evan, but he wasn’t…And then I took my medicine again, because I thought…But it wasn’t mine. So I was going to take a shower, I think. Or maybe I was trying to…I don’t know exactly. I wasn’t thinking right. I took enough for me and Connor and Evan so we could all think right and get out together. If Evan was going to run like Connor did, I didn’t want him to leave me behind. Even if he got caught, I wanted to be there with him. I didn’t know Connor was running, so I couldn’t run with him. He thought I would slow him down. Because I’m too stupid. And he got caught, and Dad…And he made me clean it up, and I couldn’t get clean after. Evan’s blood, it didn’t all come out in the shower.”

Sam’s stomach was churning. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to hit something. But mostly, he wanted to put his arms around Tom and never let him go. He couldn’t do that. Tom couldn’t handle being held right now. But that didn’t stop Sam from wanting it. “It wasn’t Evan’s blood, Tom. It was Connor’s. Evan is fine. You’re fine. Your father can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“He can’t hurt Evan?” he whispered through tears.

“No, Tom. What your father did to you and your twin was horrible. But he can’t hurt you anymore, and he can’t hurt Evan.”

The eyes widened. “Day and Jada. They’re okay too?”

“Yes, Tom. Tom, who are we?”

“I’m Tom. You’re Sam. And you’re not going to hurt me.”

“That’s right.” He reached for the soup and handed it back. He could not be sure Tom was hearing everything he said, but he talked anyway. “Tom, let me tell you something about family. Real family. Real family doesn’t hurt one another. My brother once told Cas that family doesn’t end with blood. It doesn’t start there either. It’s not the same thing. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family’s there. For the good, bad. All of it. Even when it hurts. That sound like Evan?”

Tom nodded. The tears slipped down his cheeks, ignored. “Yeah. It really does.”

“That kid isn’t going to leave you behind. You hear me? And Cas and I aren’t going to let you hurt alone. Family isn’t about being related. You know that. Your father…” He took a long breath to compose himself before continuing. “Your father is not your family, Tom. Cas and I are your family. Your brothers and your sister here are your family. Dean and his kid are your family. This house is your home. The stuff that happened before, and the people you lived with before, they aren’t what you are now. We are what you are now. We are what matters now. You don’t need to worry about Evan. He’s the big brother. He’ll worry about you.”

A small smile crept onto Tom’s face. “He does that. All the time. You know he checks on me at night? Almost every night. You come up in the evening, Cas comes around in the middle of the night sometimes. But Evan puts his head in my door and listens almost every night, around one. He thinks I don’t know, so don’t tell him. But it helps me sleep. He’s what the other one never was. You know?”

“Connor.”

There was a flinch, but Tom nodded. “Connor. The other one. We had the same face, but that was about it. He didn’t…he didn’t care about me the way I cared about him. He was so much smarter, like Evan. But he wasn’t my brother as much as Evan. Does that…sound dumb? I loved him. Really bad. But he never cared much about me. I was just in his way.” He stared into his soup. “I was always the other one. Connor and the other one. Even Dad called us that. I was the stupid one. Even the teachers said so. They didn’t say it like that. But it’s what they meant. Connor and the stupid one. But he was all I had. Day is more like a twin than Connor was. And Evan…he wouldn’t have left without me.”

“No, Tom. He wouldn’t. There’s going to come a day when Evan moves out and moves on. But he’s family forever. I promised you I’d keep your secret about what started your episode, although, I do want you to talk to your doctor about it.” He waited for Tom’s reluctant nod. “Now you gotta keep this secret. Cas was terrified that Evan was going to leave on his birthday. You aren’t the only one who was worried about that. Cas had pretty much convinced himself that he would be gone by the time we woke up on Saturday.”

“Really? He seemed so chill about it.”

Sam laughed. “No. There was nothing about Cas that was chill last week. He was kind of a mess. And Evan surprised you both. There’s going to come a day when he needs to go, but he isn’t going to leave us behind. He’s going to take his family with him. Everywhere I go, no matter how far, I always took Dean with me. We could be separated by thousands of miles, and I would still have my brother every minute of every day and night. Then came Castiel, and I’ve never been without him since the day I met him, no matter how long we are separated. I always carry Dean, and I always carry Cas with me. Not only that, but there is no distance they wouldn’t cross to get to me if I needed them. And the same is true for you. We weren’t just assigned to you, Tom. There’s no place you can go that I couldn’t be right there if you needed me. That’s what family is. You, Cas and Dean are fiercely loyal. It’s something I love most about you all. You just have to trust me that we love you as much as you do us.”

“I need you.” It was spoken breathlessly, with all defenses destroyed, with a wide open expression of adoration.

“It’s okay to need someone as long as it’s the right person, Tom. And we all got very lucky with the people who have pulled together to form this family. I’m grateful for you and the others every day of my life. Tom, I never want to feel like I felt Saturday and Sunday ever again. Do you understand what I mean?”

Tom nodded and met Sam’s eyes. “It was an accident, Sam. You know that, right?”

“I know. And we’re all going to make sure it can never happen again. You’re too important to this family.”

Finally, he could feel the shift, and he took the soup away again so that he could hold Tom while he cried, because he could sense that he was ready to be held.


	12. Too Much Love. Not Enough Time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends the series Too Much and Not Enough. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

When the first book of _Supernatural_ came out, Castiel had called everyone they had ever known to tell them, and when he had accidentally dialed the wrong number, he told that random person as well. Sam was quietly pleased with his husband’s enthusiasm, but he said very little himself. When things settled down after a week of his family erupting, he thought that was the end of it. Then his literary agent had contacted him at the office.

“Sam, it’s Carver.”

“Hey, man. What can I do for you?”

“Not much. Just wanted to hash out some legalese with you.”

Sam sighed and sat back in his chair. “Well, that’s what I do. Go ahead.”

“Got a call from a guy who wants to talk to you about the book. Wants to get a peek at the next one.”

“It’s ready to go, but I thought you didn’t want to put it out so soon after the first. Give it twelve months, you said, or fifteen.”

“Right. Well, he’s hoping he can talk you into rights negotiation.”

Sam straightened. “Wait, what? What does that mean?”

“You know what that means.”

“I really don’t. I deal in corporate law, Carver. What are you talking about?”

He could hear the man beaming on the other end. “Oh, it’s no big deal. It’s just…have you ever heard of Archangel Productions?”

“I…No.”

Carver Edlund’s quiet chuckle was always contagious, but today it was mixed with such wonderful excitement that Sam found himself smiling even though he did not know why. “Archangel Productions is a studio that puts out science fiction. Thriller shows. Comic book stuff. Fantasy. You know. Supernatural stuff.”

“Very funny. What are you getting at?”

“Somehow the executive producer over there got hold of an advance copy of _Woman in White_ and loved it, and now that it’s hit the internet and garnered a good little audience, he wants to see about producing a show based on the concept.”

“What?” Sam demanded.

Carver continued to laugh. “Yeah! Guy says he’s a huge fan, and wants to start some negotiations about a pilot script. He thinks he has someone who can write it, some unknown named Kripke he thinks has a lot of potential, has someone in mind to direct, and if we’re on board, he wants to get moving on it. But he wants the next story. What are you calling it?”

“ _Wendigo_ ,” he murmured. “Wait, he got an advance copy? We only gave that to…What’s his name?”

“Gabriel Arch. He’s a-“

“Gabe?”

“You know Gabriel Arch?”

“Well, yeah!” Sam shrieked. “I knew he did some work in film, but I didn’t really know…”

“Sam, you are impossible! When I told you to give me a list of potential contacts-“

He threw his free hand into the air. “I didn’t know he was anything special!”

“Anything special? Sam, he’s a freaking genius, and he owns 51% of Archangel Productions!”

“Yeah, I get that now. How big a deal are they?”

“Don’t you watch any television at all?”

Sam licked his lips and put his forehead into his hand. “No.”

Carver was sighing at him. He felt like that happened a lot. “Sam, it’s a big deal. Okay? And he didn’t even mention knowing you, just that he loved your work. And he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t think he could make it happen. He said he’s got a network in mind to pitch it to first, one he’s worked with before. I’ve done some digging, and Archangel is popular among agents and their talents because they’re loyal to the original visions, and they apparently pay fairly generously. Evidently, they don’t take chances. They know a good story when they see one, and they’re willing to put plenty of muscle behind it to make it successful. And part of their thing is keeping the writer on retainer as a consultant. And look, Gabriel called himself. Personally. Guy loves your stuff, sees a real opportunity here.”

“Was he high?”

He heard a thudding noise that made him suspect that Carver was exasperated with him. “Sam, I want your ass to hit New York next weekend, to meet with this guy and his partner.”

“Who the hell is his partner?”

“She’s an absolute terror, apparently. A real-"

“Destroyer goddess?”

Carver paused. “Um…I don’t…”

“Is her name Kali?”

“Yes?”

The rest of the day went by in a blur. He tried for hours to get hold of Castiel or Dean, or any of the kids. No one answered their phones or texts, until one came through from Castiel just before he left work. It was one word: “Roadhouse.”

Sam frowned. That was not very helpful. But he grabbed his things, and jumped into his car to head for Harvelle’s. His head was spinning.

Since Damon and Tom had graduated, there was an emptiness in the house that he had never felt before they had come into their lives.

Jada was away at Stanford, in her third year, but he heard from her almost once a day, with a text, an email or a call. Sometimes all she sent was a draft of a research paper for him to look over, and a quick sign off which reminded him that she loved and appreciated him. He was content with that. Sam was so proud of how independent and brilliant the girl was. The day she had gotten her scholarship, everyone else in the house had erupted into madness, and she had simply nodded to her self and slipped the letter back into its envelope carefully, then turned to Sam and asked what the next step was. That was his Jada. What was the next step? Always.

Her half-brother had entered the music department at Sam and Castiel’s alma mater. Castiel had been puffed with pride for weeks upon receipt of the acceptance letter. They had felt certain he would make it into the school, especially with Castiel’s position there, but the music department was quite exclusive, and they had no influence in that. Damon was working harder than he had ever worked before, and was happier than ever before as well. He met Castiel for lunch at least once a week, and Sam knew his husband appreciated that with his whole heart. It had not occurred to either of them that it might be Damon who stuck around, who went so far as to call to check up on the two of them. It was surprising, and endearing to them both.

Evan and Tom’s apartment was less than forty-five minutes away. Evan had finished his social work degree in three years, and had taken on his first case load recently. He still looked after his little brother like a bulldog, and it reminded Sam of Dean so clearly that it hurt sometimes. When Sam had gently asked Evan if he wouldn’t prefer to live his own life, Evan had frowned at him and responded, “I am. Sam, this is my life. He’s in it. Jay and Day are in it too, and you and Cas, but you guys don’t need me, and he does. If Tommy decides to leave, it’s like Cas said, I gotta let him go. But if he wants to stay, I’m glad. He needs somebody around to kick his ass and break his cigarettes.”

Tom had not smoked in a year, as far as Sam knew, but it was Evan’s code for looking out for his brother. The younger man had started working for Dean the summer after graduating from high school, and he had taken two classes in auto mechanics every semester since then. Dean had mentored him, and often told Sam that he would be glad to leave the place in his hands one day, if that’s what Tom wanted. Not for many years, of course, and only if Tom had someone like Richie to partner with and watch the books. But one day. If Dean ever retired, which Sam seriously doubted. Tristan and Ben were about to enter high school, and had each been accepted into the engineering and technology magnet academy the public schools offered. Lisa had rolled her eyes, gave a prayer to help those poor teachers, and let Dean laugh at her.

There had been no more fosters after Damon and Tom graduated. Maybe one day, they would do it again, but for now, Sam and Castiel’s hearts were full. When they realized that it would not be long before one of the four brought a significant other around to join the family, they decided they had better quit the game for a while.

Instead, Castiel had thrown himself into his artwork. Every moment he was not pining for his kids, worshipping his husband, or researching childhood development, he was creating something beautiful. Sam had convinced him a few years back to start putting small pieces on their bedroom walls, but now there was a piece everywhere he looked, and it made him happy. Castiel still got up in the middle of the night to wander around, but instead of doing dishes and straightening the living space as he always had, he went to his studio and worked. Many evenings were spent in wordless contentedness, with Sam tapping on his laptop on the couch in the studio while Castiel worked on some new expression across the room, usually shirtless and with punk rock blaring into his ears.

By the time he reached the Roadhouse, Sam was itching to text Dean again. But he did not want to harass his brother. He knew the man had other things on his mind right now. Who in the world would have guessed that Dean Winchester would be planning, not his first, but his second wedding? Fortunately, this one was meant to be low-key, more of a party than a storybook ceremony. “Beer and jeans,” Dean had announced happily. “I’ll be in jeans, Sammy. Suit jacket, sure, but no penguin suit for me this time around. And she’s just wearing this sundress thing. And pie, Sammy. Not cake. A goddamn pie. Jesus, I love that woman.” And Lisa had asked Pamela to be her second maid of honor, to stand next to her sister, opposite Sam and Castiel. There would be no others, just the two of them. Pamela had been touched, and Tristan would always be grateful. Benny would pour the drinks, Jo would provide the space at the Roadhouse, Richie had insisted on deejaying, and Charlie would officiate. Damon was busy writing a vocal piece to perform. For two wayward brothers who had wondered if they would always be all they had, Sam and Dean had certainly found themselves a huge, loving family, created by piecemeal.

When he stepped into the Roadhouse, Sam was nearly blown back by an enthusiastic shriek of “Congratulations!” from a crowd of familiar faces. He stumbled, feeling a wave of warmth fill his heart and his face at the same time. “What the hell?” he breathed in a hiss.

Dean was in front of the gathering, raising his drink. Everyone returned the gesture. “My kid brother!” he shouted. “Always knew there was something supernatural about this guy!”

The cheers and laughs were mingled with clinks of glass as everyone threw back their drinks.

Sam was looking for Castiel in shock, but his eyes fell on one particular smug face of a man sitting-lounging-on the floor with a cocktail at his mouth, with his back against the bar. “Jesus, Gabriel!” The crowd burst into laughter again, and a hundred excited conversations began around them.

The man winked, then gave him his signature eyebrow wiggle.

The writer approached him, but it was obvious Gabriel did not intend to get up, so Sam awkwardly crouched down next to him. “We haven’t even negotiated any kind of contract!” he shouted over the din.

He shrugged. “You gonna turn me down?”

“You know I’m not.”

“You think I won’t take care of you?”

Sam smiled. “I know you will.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll face off over details next week. For now, drinks are on me.”

“What, everybody’s?”

“Everybody’s. Except Cas. I can’t afford Cas.”

“Thank you, Gabe.”

His former flatmate gave him a grin. “Don’t thank me for recognizing a great show when I read one. Got nothing to do with you, buddy. It’s business.”

“Thank you, Gabe,” he said again.

He received another wink, then Gabriel waved him away. “I’m going to need another drink!” he called to no one in particular.

Dean and Castiel were on him as soon as he had stood again. Charlie was smaller, but she moved faster, and she was in his arms before either of the men could react. Sam put his chin on her head. “You’re famous!” she laughed breathlessly. “I’ve already read it four times. And I’m going to blog the snot out of this deal as soon as it’s official.”

“You’ve already blogged it, haven’t you?”

“Maybe?”

He squeezed her tightly. “I love you, Charlie.”

“I know.”

Sam ducked down to look her in the eyes. “Hey, kiddo? Thank you for buying me an appointment I didn’t want two decades ago.”

The smile was brilliant. If Jo had been nearby, it would have knocked her over. “You’re welcome. Seems to have paid for itself. I take happy Sam as currency for repayment, you know. And your brother sort of flung me at Jo. So, you know. All even.”

Castiel’s blue eyes were on him when he glanced up from the redhead. They shared the intense, quiet look of love they had enjoyed since that first day. Sam had never been happier.

***

Damon sighed. “It’s going to be all right, Jay. You can come if you want, but I really think it’s just…it’s over, Jay.”

“Does Cas need me?”

“You think Cas will be in this world after this?”

His sister echoed the sigh. “No. He won’t be. Thank you for being there, Day. Thank you for always being there. I know Tom and his wife help out, and Evan is there when he can be, but you…you’ve done everything. Don’t think we don’t all appreciate that.”

“I know. They don’t need me as much as I need to be here for them. You know?”

He could hear her smile. “Yeah. Take care of you, and call me when…when anything happens. If you text me, I’ll be on a plane within the hour.”

“I know you would. Really, I think it’s just between them now. But it would help if you could call the other guys. And maybe Dean’s family. It wasn’t so long ago they lost him. Tris and Ben…it’s going to hit them and their families pretty hard.”

Giving Jada a job to do was exactly what she needed. No one knew her better than Damon. It was aching horribly to be so far away during all this, and she needed to feel as if she could help somehow. “I’m on it,” she said with something resembling relief. “I love you.”

“Love you too. I’ll keep you up to date.”

Damon walked out of the guest room and stepped quietly into the master bedroom. He leaned on the door until he could blink back his tears. Castiel couldn’t hear him anyway. Castiel couldn’t hear much of anything anymore.

“But Mira will be glad to see you. Tell Erik I’m on my way too. Tell him I never loved another dog after him.”

This was not helping Damon still his tears.

It was Sam’s voice then, hoarse and weak. “Cas? Is Dean coming?”

Castiel gave a shuddered sigh. “You’ll see him soon, Sam. I promise.”

“Dean’s always been there for me. I ever tell you…”

When it was clear Sam was unable to continue, Castiel nodded. “Yeah, Sam. You told me. I know all your stories.”

“Can I…Can you show me our cat and dog?”

There was a pause as Castiel’s arthritic hands gripped Sam’s, and moved his fingers over the space between his thumb and forefinger, where there lay a calligraphic cat and dog, each looking over his shoulder, watching out for one another faithfully. Castiel traced Sam’s fingers across the ink, letting him feel their symbol one last time.

“I love it,” Sam whispered. “The dog wasn’t…too much, was he?”

Castiel’s chest heaved, and tears spilled down his face finally. “No, Sam. He was perfect. Was the cat ever enough?”

“Always,” came the last breath.

There were several beats of silence, and then Damon was overwhelmed by a sound he had never heard before, of such deep, choking despair that it punched straight into his heart. It took a moment to catch his breath, and when he did, he moved into the room to find Castiel had poured himself over the still body of the love of his life, folded into him as if he could force his own soul to follow. Damon was not sure what to do, but he knew he could not separate his fathers. He walked back out of the room and cried alone, unwilling to disturb something so sacred.

In the end, it did not matter, because returning almost an hour later had revealed that both were gone. Damon nodded to himself, grief tying in his throat. It was just like Castiel to wait so that Sam would never have to live without him, to carry the burden of being left behind to protect Sam from it. But now that he had, his work was done, and his soul was determined to watch over his lover again in another place.

Damon touched their joined hands briefly, then took out his phone to begin making calls.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for coming along with me for all this. Hope you enjoyed the ride. 
> 
>  
> 
> There is now a tag/coda story of just under 500 words, written by Rosworms, to give more closure to those who want it. Check it out. I'm grateful to her for being so invested in it that she wanted to write one last scene. :)


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